


Heroes and Hellions

by Hades_the_Blingking



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Covert Operation, Cowboy slang, Dating, Domestic, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fortune Telling, Found Family, Hanzo is a rich bitch, Hot Sex, Humor, Humour, M/M, McCree's continued use of ridiculous belts, Mchanzo is main ship, Minor Drug Use, Mistakes, Morally Grey Characters, Murder, Mystery, POV Multiple, Poker, Rating May Change, Reaper and his love of disguises, Sass, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Talon is amazing, Yakuza, a labour of procrastination, a lot of fisting jokes sorry Doomfisters, due to, i can't tell hanzo what to do anymore i gave up, im scared of zenyatta, monopoly, one bed, polyamorous Genji, puns, read and find out, sassy bitches everywhere, someone plz stop hanzo, sooo much tension, what even is mccree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2020-06-22 23:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 121,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19683121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hades_the_Blingking/pseuds/Hades_the_Blingking
Summary: When it seems like Talon is on the move to kidnap the children of a client of Overwatch, the terrible decision is made that McCree and Hanzo will go undercover as fake husbands to look after them. One adoption and two asshole teenagers later, these two highly skilled agents must live in a civilian environment, somehow acquire parenting skills, and maybe even try to like each other. Of course, chaos ensues.Will they be able to thwart the terrible Talon? Will they be able to keep their identities secret? What will happen when they share....one bed?? Join in and have a laugh.Comments are really appreciated!!





	1. Well, Somebody’s going in The Pit

**Author's Note:**

> Note:
> 
> This fic was started before Ashe came out. Therefore most of the more recent Overwatch lore probably won't be incorporated. Also, McCree is sort of a grumpy bastard in-game. I went with that and it actually turned out really fun. So have a laugh! Enjoy!

Everyone had days where everything just went wrong. For a normal person, they might lose their wallet, their hair might never look right, or they might miss their alarm clock in the morning. But when someone was a highly trained killer with an escort mission and a dangerous organization on their back, a bad day meant a little more than fumbling the car keys into a drain. As Ana Amari ran to the motionless Raptor suit that had dropped like a stone from the sky, she realized it was going to be one of _those_ days. It had started as normally as somebody in a world-protecting organization run by a space gorilla could expect:

**1100hrs: The dropship.**

“ – and I swore I heard the Valkyries calling my name!” Wilhelm beamed, full to the brim with energy, even after their early start. Well he was very healthy, Ana thought. Someone as strong and full of life and muscular as he was probably never ran out of energy. So muscular. And huge. Ana blinked a few times, and zoned back into the story.  
“But it was only Dr Ziegler. And then she slapped me a second time to make sure I was awake, and said if I ever tried to carry zat many bowling balls down the stairs at the same time again, she’d let me keep the broken arm for a month!” Wilhelm grinned, and Ana burst into laughter. The story had started with ‘how I almost died’. She hadn’t expected it to end with ‘carried too many bowling balls down the stairs and tripped’.

“It was worth it though! The basement bowling alley is awesome!” Genji piped up, and it warmed Ana’s heart to see him so happy. The last time they’d met, he’d…well mainly growled. And glowed red when he was angry. Apparently he had always been angry. Or Gabriel had just liked The Lookᵀᴹ so much that he’d made the glowing a permanent thing.

“Well, when we get back, how about you, me, Wilhelm and Hana all have a game?” Ana hadn’t bowled in so long she couldn’t even remember how. “I might even persuade Fareeha.”  
She shot her daughter a warm smile, and the Captain sighed as she glanced up from her plan.  
“Sure. If there aren’t any missions or training I need to attend. McCree might be more reliable.”  
They all knew that wasn’t true.  
“Maybe the old McCree would have.” Genji slumped his chin into both hands. “Now he’s such a salty old man.”

Ana’s eye slid over to the motionless bundle in the shadow of a bench alcove. A single, spurred boot dangled off the edge. Her heart twisted to see what McCree had become. Something between the fall of Overwatch and its reunion had not only turned the hotheaded green stick into a grumpy bastard, but a silent, grumpy bastard. It may have been her own disappearance. Possibly Jack’s. Or Gabe’s disappearance and subsequent reappearance as an evil Hot Topic poltergeist. Or perhaps he’d just watched too many Clint Eastwood films and thought that was his life now.

“I hope you’re not using ‘old man’ as an insult!” Wilhelm chuckled and waggled a finger.  
“You’re not even old!” Genji protested. “I swear, you’re like a 30yr old man who dyed his hair white to be his old-sona.”  
“Old what?” Reinhardt’s eyebrows crunched together in confusion, and Ana laughed – although she had no idea what Genji meant either.  
“It’s like a fursona. But you identify as an old person.” Genji happily clarified. Ah.  
“Fur - ?”  
“5 minutes until arrival!” The autopilot voice announced over the speakers thankfully macheteed that flower of conversation before it could even bud.

“Somebody – “ Fareeha glanced over at McCree, but he’d already un-burritoed himself from his serape, and was halfway towards the table.  
“How was your old man nap, old man?” Genji poked his metal arm with a muted dink as the quiet merc prowled past. Ana had always known there had been something a little off about that boy (well, apart from the fact that he dressed unironically like a cowboy on the battlefield) from the get-go. Now, in his walk, in his eyes, in his posture there was something downright chilling.  
“Has the briefing changed or did I wake up for nothin’?” McCree scowled and lit a cigar. Ana was tempted to rebuke him, but arguments could wait until after the mission. You never knew when someone might die.  
“We pick up the data from our contact at the café here.” Fareeha ignored him, and went over the plan they’d all but branded into their skulls at this point.

***

McCree squinted at the sun. Then shifted his gaze back to the café. Then squinted at the sun again. What kinda undercover OP went well in broad daylight? 

A portly man in a suit and an omnic sat down at the table he and Fareeha occupied.  
“Is this seat free?” The man asked. A bead of sweat slid down the man’s brow as McCree fixed him with a hard stare.  
“Only if you’ll buy me another coffee.” Fareeha completed the code sentence, and the pair sat down.

“This is your data.” The man in the suit swallowed and gestured at the omnic. McCree’s eyes sharpened. Their man was nervous, that was child’s play to read. Of them? Or something else?  
“Hello. It is I, your walking, talking USB stick.” The omnic said, with no small serving of sarcasm. “I would ask you to call me my name, Xylotron the Indignant, but you wouldn’t bother.”  
“Xylotron. Agent L.” Fareeha nodded, and McCree was glad he’d lived to hear his stoic sis say the word ‘Xylotron’ in all seriousness. 

Agent L began to give directions, so McCree listened and took in the café again. People sat here and there, chatting about their normal lives, their food choices, their relationships... Genji, Reinhardt, and Ana sat at the table across the room. They’d actually forced Genji into clothes today. Couldn’t have the guy runnin’ around buck nude. That’d draw the crowds more than anything. 

McCree turned to appraise their guest again. His eyes flicked to the side, then flicked back when he saw McCree watching him. There was more than just an itch of wrong in the air here, but he couldn’t pin it. The man’s outfit weren’t bulky enough for a gun or a bomb. Nobody else in the café seemed affiliated with him, or even interested in them. McCree chewed an old scar inside his cheek and gave the area another scour.

And then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye, Genji flicked a piece of lint off the table and turned back to Ana, boredom in every inch of his posture. The lint flew and hit their waitress. No. It went _through_ her ponytail. With a movement only their Captain picked up, McCree shifted Peacekeeper from his belt to under his serape.  
“Can I get you anything else today?” The waitress smiled, but McCree kept his eyes on Agent L, who looked as if he were about to do a runner.  
“You sure can.” He slid his gaze up to her, and squinted just a little. Her edges were wrong. “The truth.”

And with that line he didn’t think was cheesy but definitely was, he pulled the trigger. The hologram was immediately replaced by the husk of a black omnic, which clattered to the ground in the silent restaurant. And that’s when McCree realized something wasn’t just wrong. It was _horribly_ wrong. 

He’d pulled enough triggers enough times to know that screaming civilians usually followed. Not dead silence.

Every single person in the café flickered. The pedestrians on the street stopped. 

Fareeha moved first. In a flash, she tackled Xylotron under the table as her armour roared in the wide door to snap around her body. McCree threw a flashbang towards the biggest mass of omnics, then hurled himself though the trellised window to create a flight path for Pharah. A roar and a whoosh of heat across his back as he rolled to the ground told him she’d managed it out, but the _ping_ of a bullet on his breastplate told him he’d better keep running.

“I am with you McCree!” Genji called from his side. As his sword sent the bullets back to their owners, they both scaled the building to cover.  
“Well shit.” McCree’s heart dropped like a stone as they peeked out from their vantage point. Talon hadn’t just filled the café with omnics. It was –  
“The whole island.” Genji’s voice was hollow. This weren’t right. Talon didn’t have the resources. Talon were as scrappy as Overwatch right now, which was why McCree had taken the chance and shot what he thought would be their only omnic. But this wasn’t some rag-tag company. This was what they’d all but dismantled back in the old days. An _army_.

A deafening _boom_ made both Genji and McCree duck, then peer back over their shoulders. The drop ship burned, a blackened wreck. Pharah was thrown away from the blast with such force she dropped good ol’ Xylotron.  
“Partner, we gotta secure that omnic.” He sent Genji a grim look.  
“I’ll send an S.O.S.” Genji nodded, sent the call through to the base, then turned back to the small army. 

“Get behind me!” Wilhelm roared, and his shield snapped up from his fake watch. Ana ducked behind the blue screen immediately, as armour expanded out from his backpack to cover him head to foot.  
“Ve have to get to the drop – “  
  
_Boom._  
  
Ana had a sneaking suspicion that had been their dropship.  
“Nevermind!” Reinhardt confirmed her suspicion.  
“Mom, I dropped the omnic your 2 o’ clock!” Fareeha gritted in her ear.  
“Go! I will take care of these weaklings.”  
Oh, Ana could _feel_ Reinhardt’s grin.  
“On my way. Wilhelm?”  
The knight turned his head, barrier still raised.  
“Take care.” She patted his metal arm, then slipped away. Well, their drop-shop had blown up, their data was in the wind, and they were trapped on an island with a small army of omnics. She knew fate was playing her when she thought ‘what could get worse?’ but she thought it anyway.

It seemed like Ana had gotten away with it as she rounded the corner to find their data omnic spread eagled on its face. The whoosh and boom of rockets from her daughter shattered down to cover them, so Ana took the opening. Luckily her healing darts worked for metal as well, so she promptly shot it in the butt.

“Hey!” The omnic lifted its head, affronted. “No ‘Xylotron, are you alright, are you dead, you fell from 50ft – “  
“I’m not your grandma, now get a move on.” She slapped at his metal shoulder, and Xylotron grumbled, but got up – to see a squadron of bots headed their way.  
“Agh!” The omnic scampered up and ducked behind her. A brave soul this one, Ana thought as she dragged him back into the building.  
“Run!” Fareeha yelled as she swooped in behind the troop and hovered in the sky. _“Justice rains from ab - augh!”_

Ana seemed to watch in slow motion as her daughter’s head snapped backward, and she fell from the sky into the flaming wreckage of the omnic squadron.  
“Fareeha!” Ana cried. Fast as lightning, without breathing, she scoped in and shot two healing darts into her daughter before she hit the ground. But she couldn’t leave her daughter to cook. Xylotron would be safe for the moment. So Ana ran into the fire.

“Are you crazy!” Xylotron begged from behind her, but she hardly heard it as she pulled on her gas-mask. In the midst of the wreckage the Raptor suit lay motionless, a shining sarcophagus surrounded by flame. A perfect hole stared out like a black eye in the centre of the helm.  
“Fareeha, _habibti_ , come on.” Ana wrapped her arms around the hot metal and dragged with all her might. The dead weight scraped along, burned Ana’s hands, but she could do it, she could get them under cover – 

_Thunk._

A sickening thud slammed into Ana’s shoulder. The bullet sent all the breath out of her body, and when she looked up through the flames, she saw that silhouette of the one who’d taken her eye.  
“Come on Fareeha, come on.” She panted as the world began to spin. A healing grenade. That would keep them alive…for now.

“Come on!” Reinhardt yelled happily as bullets ricocheted off his suit like a bad Western movie. His hammer smashed bots left, right, and into the bottomless pit this town had in its centre for some reason. He hadn’t had so much fun in ages!  
“Who’s next?!” He yelled at the pile of smashed parts. A coarse screech picked up to one side, then something that moved faster than he could see flew at him in the same way Genji usually stole his chocolate Danishes.  
“Ha!”  
Its big blades barely scratched his armour, so Reinhardt picked the Assassin of his chest with one hand and punted it into the sun.  
“Better luck next time!”

“Your confidence will be your downfall.” A low voice chuckled behind him, and Reinhardt turned to see a man with a giant fist opposite him.  
“I prefer to call it positivity!” Reinhardt beamed and launched a firestrike at the newcomer. “What is your name, challenger?”  
“Like I’d ever tell you that.” The man dodged the fire, and sneered.  
“Then I shall call you Fist Man.” Reinhardt proclaimed happily.  
“Please don’t.” Fist Man scowled, but Reinhardt really couldn’t understand why he looked so offended.  
“Mister Fister?”  
“I did not break out of jail for this!” Fist Man growled, then leaped upwards, and fired a few rounds from his other hand. Reinhardt flashed up his shield to catch them. He didn’t want his armour to get too worn, what with Brigitte on her mission in Russia, and woe be him to drag Torb away from his family to fix some armour.  
“Then what did you break out of jail for!” Reinhardt beamed. “I would love to hear the story!”  
“I – “ Mister Fister caught himself before he could begin the reminiscing. “Your Overwatch interrogation techniques will not work on me!”

Reinhardt really had no idea what he was talking about as they circled each other. True back in the day, he would get sent into the interrogation room to drop off some coffee, but the people who were being questioned told him a lot of great stories, sometimes without even being asked! Reyes had always patted his gargantuan, scarred bicep, a small part of his looming, 7ft form, and said he’d done a great job. But all he’d done was deliver coffee and have a rousing storytelling session!

“But I love a great story! Especially heartwarming ones! Are you after redemption? A lost family member?” Reinhardt slapped his metal chest with the hand that didn’t hold his rocket powered hammer.  
“A tin man with a heart. How…poetic.” Fist Man sneered. “Would you mind if I ripped it out?”  
“Yes!” Reinhardt answered heartily, and lined up for a charge. The other man just rolled his eyes, and drew back his fist.  
“That. Was. _Rhetorical!_ ” Mister Fister flew forward the same moment Reinhardt charged. Oh this was the life. He always loved that crunch when omnics got squished. Oh wait. Oh no. This man wasn’t an omnic. Oops; this was going to be messy.

He braced himself, but not hard enough. The big fist hit his chest so hard he felt his armour shattered into the flesh of his chest, and all of a sudden Reinhardt was staring up at the sky, dazed.  
“What? Did I punch the positivity right out of you?” Mister Fister smirked.  
“Is…that…meant to be…rhetorical?” Reinhardt wheezed out. The other man just scowled and raised his giant golden fist.

“Pharah? Ana? Anyone?” Genji called into the com as they ran from doorway to doorway. McCree needed a vantage point to take out the most omnics, and Genji needed Ana’s boost for him and his dragon to do the amount of damage they needed to get out alive. But at the moment, leaping out into the open would be suicide.  
“Two alleyways…along from the café.” Ana panted in his ear. She sounded shaken, and it took a lot to shake their Grandma of Steel.  
“Ana, what’s wrong?” Genji’s heart sank like a stone.  
“Pharah’s down. I am trying to find a secure position. Widow – ” There was a sudden _snap_ and the com shut off into static.

Genji looked over at McCree, whose jaw was clenched so tight a tick pulsed. Then he turned his gaze to the stairs beside them. A red sheen flitted over one of his eyes, like a cat in a feral mood, and despite himself, Genji swallowed.  
“I’m gonna clear a path.”  
“I will distract them.” Genji knew he could last only a few seconds against that many omnics without backup. But a few seconds was all McCree needed. So, with an anime battle-cry, Genji leapt out of the doorway.  
“Come on!” He flicked bullets away with his sword and dashed at the enemy. Energy pulsed through him, the fizzle of a battle-hungry dragon ready to awaken and devour.

Then the whispers started. The back of Genji’s neck prickled as he leapt on to the first four-legged omnic and sliced its head off, a sort of sixth sense that something _unnatural_ was present. He caught an omnic’s gun, and twisted it backwards into the rest of the small army as he used it’s large body as a bullet shield.

_“It’s high noon.”_ McCree drawled, voice somehow clear as day even though he was half a block away. Genji had never figured out how or why, but he couldn’t concentrate on that now. He flipped upward, and his superior cyborg vision caught how McCree’s bullets whizzed by his cheek just as he turned his head, through his legs as he somersaulted, and under his arm. The omnics fell around him, and Genji landed on the ground without a scratch. With no hesitation, he dashed toward the café, only to almost collide with a very familiar face hiding – maybe even cowering – from the cowboy power around a white-washed corner.

“Moi – “  
“Your power is mine.” Their old Blackwatch teammate raised her hand, and Genji gasped as all his previous energy left his muscles, drawn out by a black jet of scientific magic. But he couldn’t stop to fight her. He had to get to Ana and their objective.  
“McCree, Moira’s in the field. Your 1’o clock.” Genji willed himself towards the smell of smoke, but it seemed Moira didn’t take so kindly to being ignored.  
“You can Naruto run, but you can’t Naruto hide!” She cried as he ducked out of her sightline and into an atrium near the centre of the town. The view in front of Genji made his breath catch in horror. 

Reinhardt lay pinned down on the green, armour shattered, Doomfist above him, ready to strike. Through the open-plan buildings, he could make out two silhouettes in front of a fire – Ana on her knees, and Pharah, a deadweight held in her arms. The data omnic was nowhere to be seen.  
“Ah!” A sharp pain stung him in the back. The last thing Genji saw before his vision greyed out was one of Moira’s orbs behind him.  
“I need…I need…” Genji gasped, then dropped to his knees.  
“Healing?” 

Genji looked up to see a vision of Socratic beauty glide towards him in a beam of sunlight. Zenyatta. Their SOS call had been answered. An orb flew from his hand, and life flowed back into Genji’s body. That sweet healing juice.  
“Yes!” Genji moaned quietly and was thankfully interrupted by the appearance of Moira around the door.  
“I’m not done with you!” She raised her hands to use her plagiarized Ka-me-ha-me-ha, then noticed Zenyatta. He glided directly over Genji to plant himself between them, and raised his hands as well.  
“Try it.”

Moira took one look at the Shambali monk in a protective battle-stance, and one listen to the soft clink of spurs around the corner behind her, then vanished in a cloud of smoke.

“Is…that…meant to be…rhetorical?” Reinhardt wheezed out. Fist Man just scowled and raised his arm –  
“Boop.” A wall of sound knocked Fist Man off Reinhardt’s chest, directly into the Greek town’s pit.  
“Luci – ack – “ Reinhardt broke off into coughs – but happy coughs. Their bright young medic was here! With his youthful, catchy music!  
“Chill out man, we gotta get this armour off you!” Lucio pried open the suit’s emergency release cover and hit the button. Shards of metal squelched out of Reinhardt’s skin as the suit decompressed and dropped off, but he gritted his teeth against a groan of pain.  
“Alright, I’m gonna amp it – no!” Lucio turned around and booped Doomfist back into the pit as he flew out with two a boosted punches. “And stay down!”

They both listened happily for a moment to Doomfist’s panicked yell fade into the distance. Lucio just tutted as he turned back, and Reinhardt started to climb to his feet. He didn’t dare look at how many bits he had stuck in his chest. It would only make it hurt more!  
“Come, we must find the others!” Reinhardt heaved himself up, and made sure his shield was still clipped in place. Lucio’s youthful music really made him feel alive!  
“Reinhardt, man, we gotta get that shrapnel out of you!” Lucio tried to push him back a bit, but sort of bounced off Reinhardt’s ginormous bicep.  
“No time!” Reinhardt lifted his shield up and scanned the area with hazy vision. Shattered robots, Zenyatta above a hindered Genji, and… no.  
“Ana!” Reinhardt could even feel his chest wound any more. He was already running towards the smoke.

Ana’s muscles burned as she dragged her prone daughter away from Widow’s sightline. She just could let her go. She couldn’t. Tears and blood made her gas-mask sticky, and she didn’t see the red laser dot on her own chest until it was too late to dodge.

All of a sudden, a huge shape fell from the sky, and landed with a hiss of smooth suspension in front of her.  
“Barrier activated.” Orisa called, and there was a dull thud as the Widow’s shot hit hard light. “You are so lucky we were already on our way to Efi!”  
“Take her.” Ana gasped, and lifted Fareeha up under the arms with a monumental heave. Orisa caught her daughter just as Ana collapsed.

“I must ensure the safety of both of you.” Orisa laid Fareeha across her broad, horselike back.  
“Take her, and take Xylotron – the data omnic.” She pointed to the bush where their brave payload had curled up into a ball. “I’ll be fine.”  
“Yes beautiful horse lady! Take me! Take me away!” Xylotron leapt up and clambered up beside Fareeha. To the omnic’s credit, it did hold her in place.  
“Priority indicates you are correct.” Orisa turned, fired another shield, then broke into a canter. 

Ana clutched her shoulder and panted. The gas-mask restricted her breathing, so she tore it off with a cry of pain – Widow had shot her ear off just after Genji had commed her, and the renewed sting flashed silver spots across her vision. So she crawled closer to the shield and hoped the ninja would find her soon – but that hope was broken by the sound of another omnic battalion on the march.  
“Dammit.” She hefted her rifle and aimed, even though the movement made her dizzy. Ana Amari was not going down without taking a few with her.  
“Ana!” A familiar voice cried. 

Ana looked left to see a shirtless Reinhardt run out of the smoke towards her, shield on one arm, covering his flank. Blood and grime smeared his rippling muscles, his hair tossed in the wind, and Ana thought that at least if she died now, she would die happy. One huge arm scooped her up, and she couldn’t feel pain any more. Just a lot of firm man.  
“Ana, Ana my dear, stay with me.” Wilhelm whispered as bullets thudded against his shield, and then the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by Baywatch  
> I think that’s all the thirst for my main tank rein out the way maybe. I was going to call this chapter ‘reinhart gets fisted’ but I thought it would be slightly misleading
> 
> We’ll get to….hanzo  
> (that’s a threat and a promise)
> 
> I’d love to know what you thought, especially for the first chapter! So leave a comment if you like (or kudos if you’re shy!)  
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)


	2. Morrison Makes a Monumental Mistake

“Alright, everyone who’s not dying, get in the briefing room.” Morrison’s growl came across the intercom, and Genji slowly rose from his chair outside the medical quarters. “And by everyone I mean the Shimadas, McCree, and Zenyatta.”

Beside Genji, McCree gave a huff around his cigar, then stood as well. He didn’t say a word, just stalked off down the hallway. Fareeha on her deathbed had made him even more surly and silent – her helmet had taken most of the impact (thank goodness), but the bullet had still entered her brain. Then there was Ana on the mend getting a new ear made, Reinhardt finally getting his shrapnel removed… Usually Genji would berate McCree for being a Brooding Angst Man, but today the ninja supposed he would allow it.

“Alright you lucky ducks, gather round.” Morrison growled. So of course, McCree and Hanzo retreated to separate Brooding Corners to watch the proceedings. Genji bounded over to Zenyatta, already by the table. Zenyatta’s presence was something Genji just couldn’t describe – like standing in a ray of sunshine or being wrapped up in bed.

“Genji, I am so glad you are unharmed.” Zenyatta said with no small amount of warmth. Genji just leaned his temple against his master’s shoulder with a small metal _donk._  
“Thanks to you! I – “  
“Battery-warming moments can wait.” Morrison scowled and smacked the holo-table so that a picture of Xylotron appeared. “Thanks to our efforts, Talon don’t have the data to blackmail our client with. Which unfortunately means they’ll move on to the next best thing.”  
The image changed into two teenagers – a girl and a boy. The girl seemed younger, with very dark skin, a halo of curls and buck teeth. The boy, as far as Genji could tell, was Japanese, with sharp, tired features.

“Children?” Zenyatta asked in a concerned tone.  
“The children of our clients, yes.” Morrison flipped the image to some candid photos of the two. “They’ve been adopted out to several couples in several different countries over the years to try and confuse potential blackmailers. I doubt they’ve even seen their original parents since they were very young. But this new Talon, with its funds and information may already know they exist. That’s what our clients are worried about. So they want their children secured.”  
“Where?” Genji asked. He was sure the four of them could transport a couple of kids.  
“Not where.” Morrison looked between the four of them. “With who.”

“We’re…bringing them here?” Genji’s logic told him that out of all the solutions to this problem, this was the most reasonable.  
“No. That would be too obvious to Talon that we’re illegally involved – also blackmail material – and disruptive for the children’s lives. An entourage of security guards would be as well.” Morrison stood up straighter, then looked at Hanzo, then McCree. Oh no. Oh by the spirit dragons, no.  
“McCree and Hanzo, your mission is to go undercover as surrogate parents to these children until the threat is over.” Morrison had finally gone insane, Genji concluded, over the sound of Hanzo’s loud _what?_ Genji had only ever seen the pair interact once, and it had been when he’d introduced them on McCree’s return.

Genji had dragged Hanzo over, and ignored the fact that the cowboy might have been even more chilly than his haughty brother.  
“This is my brother!” Genji shoved Hanzo forward, because man did Hanzo need friends. McCree just raised an eyebrow.  
“The one that chopped you up?”  
Genji had just about choked, but Hanzo, unphased, had just crossed his arms.  
“I do have a name you know.”  
“And besides, you’ve shot me before, so you might get along.” Genji had tried, a little thrown by just how…grumpypants McCree was.  
“Hm.” McCree just grunted, then carried on into the hallway towards his new room.  
“Hmph.” Hanzo had huffed. “ _That_ one isn’t worth my time.”

Genji wasn’t sure he’d meant that, because every single time they’d been at a briefing together, they’d sit in opposite corners of the room to exchange glares as often as possible. It seemed neither had quite figured out if they had a bone to pick with each other or if they just liked staring at each other, so they just kept glaring. Genji had told them both separately that it was a childish game, but Hanzo had retorted that Genji collected anime cereal box figurines, so he didn’t have a leg to stand on. McCree, he was sure, just did it because most cowboy films were 80% staring.

And now they were definitely staring at each other.  
“Couldn’t…Genji and I take this mission?” Zenyatta tried to ease the tension a little with diplomacy.  
“You wouldn’t believe how much I’d rather that.” Morrison growled, and earned affronted looks from both McCree and Hanzo. “But omnic rights haven’t come far enough to allow you to adopt children, even if you were paired with a human. Ana, Reinhardt and Pharah are injured. Hana is barely an adult herself, Junkrat and Roadhog: no.”  
They all nodded at that one, and Morrison continued.

“Tracer’s on well-deserved leave in London, Winston and I have to run this joint as well as the fact that Winston is a goddamn gorilla. Brigitte and Zarya are on their own undercover mission in Russia, Lucio’s on his mission with Orissa and Efi in Africa, which they were on their way to before the Greek incident, and Symmetra doesn’t want to. Mei isn’t field-ready yet since her Antarctic ordeal and Mercy needs to stay in the infirmary. Does that cover everyone?” He listed off. “So it’s you two. Besides, you have an 80% compatibility in the psych tests, so at least the maths is on our side.”  
“What’s the cover?” McCree grumbled, and played with his clipped cigar. Morrison pulled up another info screen, and read:

“A happily married couple, Mr Marcos Sierra-Kubo – “ He gestured at McCree, “ – and Mr Hideki Sierra-Kubo – “  
He gestured at Hanzo. “ – recently immigrated from Japan when your work visa was approved. Marcos is a qualified Spanish teacher, and will be employed at the school. Hideki, you are currently unemployed and searching for work, so as to keep your time free for surveillance.”  
“Your cover is a house husband!” Genji sniggered.  
“Do not make me come over there.” Hanzo glowered, and Genji just ducked behind Zenyatta to hide his laugh. “I will do it for double the usual wage.”  
“Hm. Seconded.” McCree flipped through the folder the table had spat out. “This is intensive cover.”

Genji thought Zenyatta might have seen Morrison’s eye roll transcend several planes, he did it so hard.  
“Fine. But I expect a report from both of you every day, and a job well done. Remember these aren’t files or weapons or celebrities you’re guarding. These are kids.” Morrison looked between them.  
“I have taken care of children before.” Hanzo said darkly as he perused his own file.  
“I do not like the way you phrased that.” Zenyatta hummed in a worried tone, but Genji was fairly sure Hanzo had never murdered a kid before. Directly, at least.  
“Well, he took care of me, and look how I turned out!” Genji offered, and a very stony silence fell over the five of them.

“This is a terrible idea.” Morrison finally groaned, and drew his hands over his face. After a moment of nobody denying this, he recovered slightly. “Ok. In light of our discussion, I am also assigning Genji and Zenyatta as backup. I believe there is a Shambali temple near the appointed residence where you’ll be able to stay.”  
“That sounds wonderful.” Zenyatta’s spheres twirled like they always did when he was pleased, and Genji beamed under his mask. More time with Zenpai? In a beautiful peaceful temple while his brother got hounded by teenagers? Awesome! McCree and Hanzo looked less enthusiastic, but at least they looked professionally bound rather than openly scornful.

“You better go say your goodbyes.” Morrison looked around all of them, at McCree in particular. “This gig could last for a month up to a year, maybe longer. Minimal Overwatch contact. We’ll keep you updated on injured personnel via encrypted reports only.”  
“A year?” Genji almost gasped. No problem for him – he’d spent longer with Zenyatta before. But McCree and Hanzo? Morrison must have a lot of faith in the personality tests. Or be very desperate.  
“Talon’s a slippery fish, agent Shimada.” Morrison growled, and hunched over the table. “And we’re understaffed and underfunded. But we can’t just sit on our thumbs. We’ll take Talon out if it takes a year or ten.”

A grim silence fell over the group, but Genji felt it was more visceral for himself, McCree, and Morrison. This felt too much like the Talon they’d fought before the fall. The Talon they thought they’d torn apart.  
“Well we’d better pack and rehearse our covers.” McCree said finally, and tucked his file under his arm. “See y’all at 0900.”  
“Hmph.” Hanzo just glared at the cowboy’s back until he was gone, then shut his own file.

“Wow, love is in the air with you two.” Genji sidled up with enough sarcasm to sink a small canoe. “Practically electric.”  
“A job is a job.” Hanzo said with the same air that he’d used when their father requested they do a whole range of dubious Yakuza activities.  
“Well, you’re not going to convince anybody you’re married with that attitude.” Genji crossed his arms, a little disappointed. He wanted to see Hanzo’s impression of a lovebird.  
“At the moment, nobody needs convincing.” Hanzo huffed, and stalked over to the window and promptly climbed out of it. 

“Who bets Hanzo will try and kill him in the first week?” Genji hunched over and whispered to Morrison and Zenyatta.  
“I’ll give it a matter of days.” Morrison sighed, and prayed that if he said one thing, the opposite would happen.  
“Oh you’re on.” Genji held out his hand, which Morrison shook.  
“I think they will get on very well.” Zenyatta was still looking towards where Hanzo had vanished into the night. “I believe the only reason Hanzo didn’t reply to McCree just then was because he would have said the exact same thing. Perhaps without the colloquialisms.”

Genji opened and closed his moth for a moment. He hadn’t thought of that. He just thought his brother was being his usual stuck-up self.  
“So you’re betting?” Morrison growled and held out a hand to the monk.  
“I have nothing to wager, but yes. No murder attempts at all.” Zenyatta was feeling particularly positive today, Genji thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it begins. what do you guys bet? :3
> 
> I’d love to know what you thought, so please leave a comment if you like (or kudos if you’re shy!)  
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	3. Meet the Husbands

“What do you think they’ll be like, Shiro?” Kimba played with the sharp edges of her harmonica as they sat in the lobby of the adoption agency for the second time this year and maybe the tenth time ever? They’d stopped counting at some point.  
“What, the next load of cardboard cutouts who try to teach us the meaning of friendship?” Toshiro snorted and rolled his eyes. “Hopefully these ones don’t know how to cook either so that we get take-aways every night.”  
“Yeah.” Kimba shrugged. “Anyway, if we hate them, we can just annoy them enough that they put us up for adoption again. Do you know that in Ancient Rome you were allowed to only sell your kids six times? I feel like that should still be a thing.”  
“Sold? Oh no, our parents love us so much they give us away for free!” Toshiro gave a dry laugh then tugged out his phone. “Come on, let’s connect with some strangers and play poker.”

“Kimba! Toshiro!” Daisy called. They’d been here so often they were on first-name bases with the staff. “Come into the office please.”  
“10 bucks says it’s a broody cat lady.” Kimba whispered to Toshiro as she pocketed her harmonica.  
“10 bucks says one of ‘em’s bald.” Toshiro whispered back, they bumped fists, and entered the office – to see neither a lady or a head lacking in hair. 

The first man seated on the cushy settee looked like he’d ridden a horse here or something – his legs were covered by chaps, his boots had spurs, and a blue plaid shirt was tucked into his jeans. Kimba tried not to look at his belt buckle, which read DILF in big gold letters, but man, it was a difficult task. The other one seemed far more normal. His sleek black hair was pulled into a bun, he had on nice but casual clothes, but the way he looked down his nose at the room kind of reminded her of Toshiro. So their new parents were Toshiro 2.0 and DILF. Wonderful.

“Well first to the important things.” Toshiro looked straight at the second man, then pointedly turned to their case manager. “Daisy, how’s the wife and kids?”  
“You’re rude, Toshiro.” Kimbra sighed.  
“I know.”  
“My family’s fine Toshiro. But – “  
“And the fractured wrist?” Toshiro overrode her attempt to try and introduce them. Usually their parental candidates would have been stumbling over themselves to make a good impression or give a warm welcome, but not these two. DILF watched the pair of them with a cool gaze that made something in the back of Kimbra’s brain squirm. His husband just played with his gold wedding band, as if bored.  
“All better, now – “  
“And the cats?” Toshiro continued, but it seemed DILF had had enough of watching.

“Cooie, hon-bun, looks like we got ourselves a firecracker.” The farm guy said in a measured voice, without a smile.  
“Pfft, he wishes.” Kimba rolled her eyes, and stuck out a hand. They may as well get this over with. “I’m Kimba, this is Toshiro.”  
“Marcos Sierra-Kubo.” Marcos held her gaze, and gave her hand a firm shake. “Pleased t’ meet you. This is – “  
“Hideki Sierra-Kubo.” Hideki huffed, and shook her hand too. Kimba could already tell that Hideki and Toshiro were going to have a whale of a time, by the way Toshiro was glaring at him.

***

McCree glanced over at Hanzo as he settled himself into the driver’s seat of the mini-van. Honestly, he would have preferred Genji as his fake husband – at least he knew how to talk to the man. So far, their only conversation topic had been their cover; like two actors rehearsing a script. He really wasn’t even sure whether they liked each other or hated each other and why they’d be of either stance. There was the Genji incident, McCree supposed. But Genji had threatened to do a Hanzo on him if he held a grudge for that. So McCree had decided that if the cyborg forgave his brother, it weren’t McCree’s place to fuel that old, painful fire.

“So, are you going to be parents and feed us?” Toshiro called from the back as they started out. Hanzo just raised an eyebrow, and McCree, not for the first time, contemplated how he’d said ‘I’ve taken care of children before’.  
“Yeah, first night we’ll getchoo a take-out or somethin’.” McCree’s mouth missed his cigar, but smoking in the car with kids just weren’t to be done.  
“As long as it’s not bottom-feeder trash.” Hanzo remarked, and peered out the window as they pulled up at a light. “I’d – “

He stopped mid-sentence, and McCree noticed his eye had caught on a noodle shop covered in bright, cartoon advertisements.  
“What? Ya feelin’ like noodles?”  
“No.” Toshiro called in a sardonic tone.  
“I agree with the boy.” Hanzo nodded, and McCree heard Toshiro’s little incensed growl at the title. “It was just…a company I recognize. Did not expect to see it in America. Carry on.”  
“Yes sir.” McCree muttered under his breath. 

He had his suspicions that Hanzo’s mood may be related to the mini-van. He’d refused to drive it, and glared at it like it had slapped his mother the first time he’d seen it. McCree, who was used to trucks held together by a wish and a prayer, weren’t picky.  
“What about pizza?” Kimba piped up. Hanzo still seemed distracted by noodles. Toshiro seemed to be trying to kill Hanzo with a glare, but hoo boy, fire does not kill a dragon.  
“If there ain’t no protests, pizza it is.” McCree tapped at his GPS and found the nearest middle-class pizza place. Overwatch couldn’t afford too much surplus after literally buying them a house in a prime area of town.

“All right, welcome to your new home.” McCree looked around the beige walls with a grim eye. They’d mapped the placed out and bought groceries before studying schematics of the school, familiarizing themselves with the city, and settling Genji and Zenyatta. It was a reassurance to know back up was a block away, but he doubted they’d need it for anything other than parenting advice. From Zenyatta, that is. McCree was pretty sure Genji was going through a second childhood, but hey, he deserved it. Hanzo deposited the three pizzas down on the kitchen island with one immensely strong arm, and didn’t look up from his phone. He hadn’t since the noodle distraction, honestly.

“Something interesting trending on Twitter?” McCree grumbled, and sat down on a bar stool as the two teens pulled open the pizza boxes. At least they looked happy about something.  
“I have plans for tonight.” Was Hanzo’s curt answer, and that incurred the Interrogation Squint.  
“I thought ya needed friends to have plans.” McCree remarked and helped himself to pizza. Toshiro gave a loud snort of laughter, but Hanzo was still fixated with his phone.  
“Friends make plans and plans make friends. At least I’m trying to be social.” Hanzo retorted, and looked away from his phone for a moment to take a slice of meatlovers before the bottomless teenagers devoured it all.

“Wow, so you two are already in the bitter, loveless stage of marriage, huh?” Kimba tugged cheese out into a long string with her teeth. “Lucky us.”  
“And you’re still in the presumptuous – “  
“I hear you been around the block a few times with adoption.” McCree cut off Hanzo’s petty comeback, and gazed at the pair of them. Toshiro just snorted.

“What, you want us to give you a score on how you’re doing so far?” He sneered. “Well, you’ve got a house with windows, so that’s a plus.”  
“Bar that low, huh?” McCree’s bar went all the way down to cardboard box, but hey, there were always bigger fish. So he took another slice of pizza.

“What do you guys do anyway? Like, work?” Kimba tilted her head. It seemed that it was McCree’s job to do the talkin’, as Hanzo had his very unsuspicious ‘plans’ to organize.  
“I teach Spanish at your new highschool.” McCree was met with an immediate groan.  
“Please tell me you’re not the only Spanish teacher!” Kimba buried her face in her hands.  
“Soy el único profesor de español.” McCree shot back. “That means yes.”  
“Ha, shame. Teacher for a dad.” Toshiro snorted. “And what do you do? Don’t tell me you’re a Japanese teacher.”  
Hanzo barely looked up.  
“Oh, oh I know - You get paid to keep a record for the least amount of attention paid to anyone?”  
McCree had to say Hanzo deserved that one a bit.

“I’m a trophy husband. Look at me, I’m beautiful.” Hanzo waved his hand absently at himself, and it took a great deal of willpower for McCree to keep his eyebrows in their natural resting position. He’d taken Hanzo to have a superiority complex, but not open narcissism. Unless he was the joking kind. But McCree would really have to squint to see a pinch o’ humour in there. That being said, Hanzo wasn’t… wrong. 

“That explains so much.” Toshiro rolled his eyes.  
“Well, it at least explains the belt buckle.” Kimba agreed, and McCree really didn’t have a valid reason to dispute that, so he just side-eyed his fake husband.  
“Hideki’s currently searching for employment.”  
“Let me guess, his looks just can’t make up for his winning personality in job interviews.” Toshiro shot back, and if he weren’t such a pain in the ass, McCree might actually like him.  
“How’s the view from inside that glass house of yours?”Hanzo just hummed without a glance up. Kimba smothered a grin behind another piece of pizza.

“Y’know, if I didn’t know better I woulda thought you two were related.” McCree rolled his eyes. He hadn’t quite imagined their day goin’ like this, but it weren’t the worst way it coulda gone.  
“Huh, you’re insulting me now too.” Toshiro said without an ounce of hurt in his voice. “I’m going to my room.”  
“Yeah, there’s two. You an’ your sister can hash out who goes where. One at the end of the corridor’s ours.” McCree gestured to the stairs, and chewed more pizza as the siblings bolted from the kitchen island stools and sprinted up the stairs. The rooms were the same, so hopefully there’d be no bickering there. And that’s when something struck McCree. He didn’t know why it had only struck him now, but hey, they’d had a busy day. And usually he didn’t have to consider stuff like…that. He cleared his throat.

“Y’know we might wanna sort out sleeping arrangements as well.” Now that the kids were upstairs, he flipped the bottom cupboard open with his foot, and pulled out some whiskey. Given Hanzo’s heated glare at the bottle, he weren’t wanting any. So McCree took a swig straight.  
“Hm.” Hanzo looked back at his phone in possible disgust. “Yes, I do seem to remember there being only one bed.”  
There was a long silence. 

There really shouldn’t have been. He’d shared a bed with Genji more times than he could count, and on one mission, he’d had to share one single tent with Genji and Gabriel for a week. That had been a squeeze. Nothin’ like waking up to your commanding officer’s sock in your eye, or being sleep-strangled by an angry spooning cyborg. So Hanzo shouldn’t be a problem. Not at all.

“You will have it all to yourself tonight anyway.” Hanzo tapped away, and McCree just glared.  
“Oh yeah. Yer _plans_.” He grumped, and reached into his breast pocket for a cigar. “Any chance you’d be tellin me what those are?”  
“I’ll be back in the morning.” Hanzo glanced at the cigar in his hand as he got up from the stool, and those fierce eyebrows furrowed. “And if you smoke indoors I’ll take your other arm.”  
“I’d like to see you try.” McCree grumbled at the archer’s retreating back.  
“Don’t tempt me.” Hanzo called from the stairs, and McCree really despised how he couldn’t quite hate the bastard. So he pushed open the back door, and wandered out on to the veranda. 

Summer was in full swing – the air was warm, and light still tinted the sky grey on the horizon. Would have been almost peaceful without the stress-storm brewing behind him. But at least he could have a moment’s calm, he guessed. So McCree lit up his cigar and gazed as the last rays of light were supplanted by the glow of orange streetlamps.

Ten minutes later, the cowboy was masked in a comfortable haze of spiced smoke – but he still didn’t miss the silent shadow that slipped from their bedroom window and headed into the city. McCree was tempted to follow, but he’d have to kick _his own_ ass if he pulled a Charlie Niner and left the mission targets defenceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: the kids. It's a bit slow getting going, but hopefully y'all are still enjoying it! I'd love to know what you thought of it (or where you think it might be going ;)) ) so why not leave a comment and let me know what you think!  
> Also - I completely predicted Hanzo's no-shirt fitness hoodie from Wave, which will make an appearance further down the track hehe
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)


	4. The Consequences of Releasing Hanzo into the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: anything in box brackets […] is being said in Japanese. This will become more important for plot later on!

“[‘Flour’ delivery!]” Jiro poked his head into the noodle shop front, a cigarette half out his mouth.  
“[Room’s been cleared in the storage! Normal on top, high grade in the middle.]” Came the usual reply.  
“Hai.” Jiro beckoned to a couple of other ‘kitchen hands’, and they jogged towards the truck.  
“[Wish the boss paid us enough to buy some of this stuff.]” Hatoshi grumbled, as they hefted a crate of flour and ‘flour’ off the delivery truck.  
“[The cash income in this joint’s been great. Maybe we could ask for a raise.]” Shun shrugged, and Jiro grinned. None of them noticed a very lethal shadow flit in front of the truck, then slip into the shop’s open back-door.

“[Yeah. Foreigners love their noodles.]”  
“[Hey, Raiju makes good shit man.]” Shun agreed – it was true. They ate Raiju’s noodles every day and never got tired of ‘em.  
“[Think he uses any ‘special ingredients’?]” Hatoshi sniggered, and they all laughed as they headed back for the second crate.  
“[Shit, if he were he’d better be putting an extra zero on the price tag!]” Jiro grunted with effort and did his part to help shift the second crate down to the storage garage. One more to go, then they could stack it properly. 

“[D’ya think coke and noodles would taste ok? Or just be gross.]” Shun wrinkled his nose, and Hatoshi just shrugged as they hefted the last box.  
“[Hey, by the second bowl, I don’t think you’d notice!]”  
They all laughed again, and Jiro dusted off his hands.  
“[Ok we need to stack this shit.]” He leaned back towards the shop back entrance. “[Hey Raiju! Mind if we shift the spice shelf?]”  
Silence. That wasn’t like Raiju.

“[Raiju? Hey I’m talkin’ to you!]” Jiro sighed, rolled his eyes, and swung round the corner – and stopped dead. The lights in the restaurant were out. The tables were empty, and pots bubbled unattended.  
“[What the…]” Jiro could see Raiju at the counter, but something about his posture seemed wrong.  
“[You know, I don’t think he does mind.]” A low voice came from Raiju, but it was _definitely_ not Raiju’s voice or regional dialect. His colleague’s body dropped to the floor to reveal a man crouched on the counter, masked by shadow – although his eyes shone lightning blue. The light picked out a bowl of noodles in his hand.  
“[And the noodles are wonderful by the way. Such a shame.]” He put the half-empty bowl down neatly, and Jiro gulped at the silhouette of a bow in the gloom. 

“[No, no…]” Jiro backed up, into Hatoshi and Shun, who’d frozen behind him. “[You’re not real. You’re a _myth.]”_  
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be _him_. The dragon boss of Hanamura. _Here?_ At a measly laundering front?  
“[You know, Raiju didn’t seem to believe in myths either. I think he does now.]” Those electric blue eyes turned down to their dead friend on the floor. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.

To Jiro’s left, Hatoshi’s hand snapped to the gun on his hip. There was a deadly _whoosh_ and he dropped to the floor, an arrow in his heart.  
“[Wh-wh-what do you want? If you’re lookin’ to start up your own pad, sure we can – ]“  
“[Cease your babble!]” The Dragon barked, and Jiro immediately shut up. “[I want your bank codes. I want names and addresses. I want your stock and safe code. And...]”  
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “[I want your noodle recipes.]”  
“[Yes, yes sir!]” Jiro gestured at Shun to gather what they needed and present it to the last surviving Shimada. It only took a minute – the less time in the Dragon’s presence, the less likely they would be killed.

“[Safe code, wallets and pin numbers.]” The Dragon pointed at the floor in front of him. Jiro put the collection of note paper and cards (including his own) on the tiles, as did Shun, and they raised their hands. Those ethereal blue eyes studied them both for a long moment, then the Dragon turned his gaze on Shun.  
“[Nothing personal.]”   
An arrow hit Shun’s chest, and before Jiro could pull his sidearm, he felt a dull thud, and the world went black.

“No loose ends.” Hanzo hopped off the bench, and unlocked the till with Raiju’s card. He’d known as soon as he’d seen the place that this was a Matsumoto Clan front. They all looked identical to someone with a trained eye. The advertisements, the logo, the extra floors above… It wouldn’t do to have that kind of activity in his neighbourhood. So with a small amount of research, infiltration and elimination had been all too easy. 

Hanzo quickly deposited all the money in the till and then the far more hefty amount of launder money from the safe into a few of the shop’s own recyclable bags (he may hate them, but he could respect that the Matsumoto Clan at least had a green image), filed all the stolen credit cards, as well as the business one, into his wallet, and gathered all their bottles of high-grade sake into another bag. His arrows were the next port of call to collect – although he hadn’t had to waste many. Then Hanzo just had to drag the delivery truck driver’s body inside, drag Raiju’s body _outside_ , turn the gas up, and light a stove. Restaurant fires happened all the time.

Hanzo had just deposited the unfortunate driver into the storage warehouse (the least suspicious place for his bones to be found), when the crates those front dogs had been moving caught his eye. With nimble hands, Hanzo dug into the middle crate, and pulled out a 1kg package of flour. He could feel it was heavily taped inside. Hm. Cocaine.   
“This will do as an investment.” Hanzo pulled out four more, worth at least ten times the money he’d taken, and headed back inside to collect Raiju’s body and burn the rest of the evidence. Then his night could really begin.

***

11am found McCree hunched at the kitchen island with a strong coffee, and senses on high alert. Hanzo still hadn’t returned, although the house had been safer than a cassowary egg; every few hours, he got up and patrolled the premises, but the only disturbance in the night had been nearby emergency sirens. Not close enough to be a threat though. McCree looked over his shoulder. The kids hadn’t woken up yet, but it was a Sunday. And the more they slept, the less McCree’d have to somehow entertain them.

The hum of an unfamiliar hover car pricked up McCree’s ears, and he crept towards the front door. His hand twitched towards Peacekeeper tucked into the ass of his jeans and hidden by his sand-coloured serape. Through the peephole, he watched a sleek black Mercedes pull up in their driveway. Shit. That looked like the car of some rich cocky bastard from a rich cocky organization. How had Talon found them so fast?  
“Dammit Hanzo.” McCree growled, and was about to run for the teenagers, when the driver swept out of the car. McCree gaped to himself. “ _Damn_ Hanzo.”

The archer had shed his middle-class skin and emerged a million buck butterfly. Expensive, pinstripe suit-pants clung to all the right places. A fitted, blue-scaled waistcoat cinched Hanzo’s slender waist to a perfect V, and a crisp white shirt stretched tight across his arms. Not to mention the leather gloves. McCree had never wanted to be slapped so hard. So, obviously, he wrenched the door open and stormed out.

“Yes, a viewing then tomorrow would be exceptional. Thank you. Goodbye.” The archer cut off his call, but whether or not he was intimidated by a six-foot one cowboy on the warpath was obscured by shades that probably cost more than their food budget. For the entire operation.  
“Hanzo what in the – “   
Hanzo just tossed him at least five bags of shopping.  
“Daddy’s home, cowman.” Hanzo snapped off his glasses, and the weak part of McCree’s brain couldn’t help thinking ‘yes, yes he is’. “Wake the children and tell them it’s time to go shopping.”

Ignoring all his internal conflict McCree slid the bags on to his metal arm, marched up to his fake husband, grabbed him by that damn blue tie and dragged him indoors. The front door slammed shut, and McCree pressed Hanzo up against the dyed black wood.  
“Who the hell did you kill for this?” He growled, and drew himself up to his full height. “We’re supposed to be layin’ low, not goin’ full glamour princess!”  
“This is a classy neighbourhood. Our mediocracy sticks out.” Hanzo glared and gripped the wrist McCree’s tie-grabbin’ hand was attached to very firmly with one expensive leather glove. He was even wearing an accessory watch. What a pretentious asshole. What a gorgeous hunk of a pretentious asshole. 

McCree must have glared at him for a second too long, because Hanzo twisted his wrist the wrong way across McCree’s chest and slammed him up against the hallway wall. McCree immediately snapped into the defensive, and brought his metal arm across in a break block to force Hanzo’s grip off. He caught Hanzo’s wrist in a vice hold, but the archer’s other forearm just came up to bar on his neck. 

The shorter, impeccably dressed man growled and bared his teeth a little. McCree narrowed his eyes and glowered, pressed entirely up against Hanzo’s very firm body. A second passed. Then another. The seething rage in Hanzo’s eyes was fair sexier than it should have been. Somewhere over a couple of oceans, Morrison felt like he may have won a bet.

“Oh my gods, if you’re gonna have hate sex, can you at least not do it right in the front doorway?” Kimba’s groan from the top of the stairs made them both jump. Hanzo’s arm on his neck immediately slid the hand on to his jaw. McCree switched his metal arm to Hanzo’s waist.  
“’Scuse us Kimba.” He sent Hanzo a very forced smile then looked up at their pyjama-clad daughter. “But Sugartits here came home with a lovely surprise.”

He gave Hanzo’s waist a squeeze that was just a little too hard, and Hanzo gave his cheek a loving pat that was more of a diluted slap. With those gloves though, McCree wasn’t too upset.  
“Call me that again and I’ll rip your dick off.” Hanzo gritted through a tender smile, and snatched his shopping off McCree’s arm. Kimba took in the exquisite suit, and frowned.  
“Who’d he sleep with for that?”  
“Hmph, and to think I was going to take you shopping.” Hanzo started to unload an ungodly amount of sake on to the kitchen island. All hate boners aside, where _had_ he got all this from?  
“Like, clothes shopping?” The tentative, enthusiastic waver in Kimba voice made something soften in McCree a little. He’d noticed they’d only come with a bag each – he knew better than any that if you moved a heap, ya didn’t collect much. “We haven’t had new clothes in years…”

Hanzo looked over his shoulder like the most regal corporate douchebag in the world.  
“Hm. Apologize.” He huffed, as McCree just leaned against the wall to glare at him.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Kimba ran down the stairs, and tugged at Hanzo’s million dollar sleeve with huge doe eyes. “Can we please go shopping?”  
Hanzo eyed her for a long moment.  
“Your apology is acceptable.” He finally remarked without a hint of warmth. “Go and wake your brother.”  
“Yay!” Kimba sprinted back up the stairs.

“That was almost the coldest thing I ever saw.” McCree shot Hanzo an icy glower, and flipped out a cigar to play with. He could probably get in a smoke before they headed out. Hanzo just pulled out some flour (of all things) from a bag, and tucked it into the bottom shelf of the pantry. McCree tried not to transfer his glare to that Booty.  
“They must learn manners.” Hanzo straightened up, and looked over sharply as his phone rang. “Excuse me, I must take this.”  
As he wandered off into the lounge, McCree headed out the screen door.  
“I am one push away.” He growled to himself. “One push away from callin’ Genji.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huehuehue _Scion Hanzo_  
>  ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ  
> i based the front off what im pretty sure is a yakuzi front near my place (nervous laughter)
> 
> I’d love to know what you thought, so please leave a comment if you like (or kudos if you’re shy!)  
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	5. Coveting A Cowboy Step 1: Denial

“I hate shopping.” Toshiro crossed his arms, in the back of their new, sleek Merc. He really didn’t. He just hated Hideki. That rich, good-looking, pretentious snob. The only redeeming thing about him was that he gave Toshiro opportunities to improve his snark.  
“Well I hate immaturity, but here we are.” Hideki replied mildly, with his douchebag shades and conceited leather gloves. Oh, it was _on._  
“Shiro, don’t ruin this!” Kimba smacked him on the arm. “New clothes! And shoes! Come on.”  
She waved at her worn sneakers that almost exposed one toe. Yeah, they really did need this. But Toshiro wasn’t anyone’s pity-bitch. Although, he doubted Hideki felt the emotion of pity. More like enjoyed flaunting how much richer than everyone else he was.

“Oh look _dad_ you bought my sister. Did you buy your husband too?” Toshiro glared at the driver, but Hideki didn’t seem phased.  
“Yes, and for your information he’s worth ten dollars and a large McDonalds fries.” Hideki leaned to check the turn into the mall, and Toshiro glowered at his sister as she tried to smother a giggle.  
“Remember this moment in history, kids: heart o’ ice over here made a joke.” Marcos drawled with a touch of venom. He had his hat tipped over his eyes like a poser, and only didn’t have his boots up on the dashboard because Hideki had threatened to bodily throw him out the car. Man, where had the adoption agency found these guys?  
“Unless you count you adopting us.” Toshiro muttered and slumped into the seat. He was _not_ going to enjoy this. Hideki could shower him in hundred dollar bills and Toshiro would still try and kick him in the shins. He would settle for flipping Marcos the finger if he tried to do anything nice, only because he seemed to lowkey loathe Hideki as well.

“Hideki hasn’t bought me.” Kimba hissed as she climbed out the Mercedes behind him. “If he wants to spend money on us, fine! Make the most of it, silly!”  
“Well that’s reassuring.” He grumped back in the most sarcastic voice he could muster. The thought of swindling the asshole did make Toshiro feel a little better actually.  
“Ugh fine.” He rolled his eyes at Kimba’s raised eyebrows. “But I’m not thanking _either_ of them.”  
“That’s the spirit!” Kimba patted him on the back with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and led the way towards the mall entrance.

Hanzo didn’t like malls, even ones as classy as this. Too many sightlines in an enclosed space. Too few exits. Too many dead ends. At least the cover was decent, he supposed. Hanzo could tell McCree wasn’t all that comfortable in the environment either; he’d fallen into a natural rearguard behind the two teens, and his eyes swivelled in a scan pattern under the brim of his Stetson. But by the spirit dragons, was this trip was worth the risk. 

Hanzo knew enough about social strata to understand that appearances _mattered._ McCree had an introductory meeting with the other teachers tonight, and so long as he was Hanzo’s husband, he’d make a good impression. The school was also mid to high class. Kimba and Toshiro needed to look good enough to gain some modicum of respect, the voice of his father pretty much recited in Hanzo’s head. Appearance, appearance, appearance. Image. Impression. Presentation of self. All these things contributed to respect. Physical and/or mental prowess was another area they’d have to work on.

“Come on Toshiro, this place looks cool!” Kimba dragged her reluctant brother into a store, and Hanzo waited for them to pass so he could catch McCree.   
“I will watch them for now. You go get measured for a suit.” He pointed at the French store opposite, practically devoid of customers. Good. That meant it was expensive.  
“That ain’t my style.” McCree squinted at him, and the hint of annoyance in his eyes reminded Hanzo of this morning. He’d _never_ seen McCree express more than a dark glare. And he’d gone and grabbed Hanzo by the tie and shoved him up against a wall. The fire he’d seen in McCree’s eyes had been dangerous, and the thrill had been delightful. Call him petty, but he wanted to see if he could push the stoic cowboy to that again. 

“What, you’re going to formally meet your colleagues tonight in knee-worn jeans and a pornstar belt?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow as he got right up into McCree’s space and gave the metal buckle a flick. McCree didn’t even flinch at the semi-violent action so close to his family jewels.  
“Or what?” McCree leaned in so they were almost nose to nose. Hanzo hated that he could smell heady-spiced tobacco on the man’s breath, and that it mingled with his natural musk to be something absolutely hedonistic. He didn’t find this ranch boy attractive. He didn’t. “You’d rather I look like a waiter?”

McCree’s heated eyes raked down him, but Hanzo just smirked. He, unfortunately, knew nothing about the waiter story.  
“You think you can’t pull this off?” He gestured at himself. He knew he looked amazing. McCree couldn’t get a _cowboy boot_ in edgeways.  
“And you think ya can bait me?” McCree growled, and Hanzo was a little taken aback that he’d been so easily called out. But his father had made him practise smooth speech recoveries since age nine. 

“I think you should get your head in the mission _Marcos_ . And that there – “ He pointed at the suit store, then crossed his arms. “ – won’t get you fired before you start.”  
“You should have a little more faith in my charm – “ McCree’s voice slid to a lower, molasses tone and his eyelids drifted. Before Hanzo could reconstruct his slightly shattered brain, the taller man pressed a light finger to Hanzo’s lips in a shushing motion. _“ – Hideki.”_

Then he pulled away with a venomous glare and headed towards Kimba and Toshiro.  
“Huh. Call me when you find it! And some mouthwash.” Hanzo spat at his back, swiped his lips, and turned away to survey the open area of the mall with a prayer to the dragons that his cheeks weren’t pink. His eye caught on a very busy Bubble Tea stand. The queue was at least fifteen people long. Hm. That was interesting.

Kimba watched Marcos and Hideki almost jump each other in public again and rolled her eyes.  
“They either need to punch each other or have really violent hate sex, and I don’t know which.”   
Beside her, Toshiro picked up a leather jacket and curled his lip in disgust.   
“I don’t want to hear that.”  
“Let me guess, you’re hoping for a punch.” Kimba turned her attention back to the _Lucio_ shirt she’d been admiring, as Marcos broke away from the personal space invasion competition going on over there and strode towards them.  
“If Hideki’s involved, I’m always hoping for a punch.” He sighed, twirled the price tag on the jacket and winced. “Although maybe after we drain his platinum card.”  
“Touché.” Since when had clothes become so expensive?

***

“You didn’t tell me the dinner was at a rodeo.” Hanzo remarked, sprawled across the couch, as McCree stalked towards the door. He had on a wine-red shirt, no serape, and had thankfully changed his belt buckle to one with a simple golden eagle on it. Even the grey jeans he had on were…much more fitted. Hm. Would have looked better in a suit. Hanzo just took a sip of excellent sake from a gold-lacquered sake cup as McCree graced him with a glare.

“Zip it, Sex in The City. An’ keep your sober head on. Yer still workin’.” There was a jingle of spurs as McCree presumably stepped into his boots in the hallway. They were okay to talk a little more freely, as the two kids seemed to want to hole themselves up in their rooms as soon as they got indoors. That was fine by Hanzo for tonight at least. He needed some time to install tracking devices in their shoes. McCree had already hacked their new phones in various ways while Hanzo had distracted them with brunch at the mall.

“Somebody’s got a snake in their boot.” Hanzo raised his eyebrows and looked up from his tablet, over the couch back. “Come on, give me your best socializing smile.”  
“Ooh let me find it.” McCree put his hand on his mouth, put all his fingers down but one, then blew a kiss off it. “Go fuck yerself.”  
“Absolutely devastating comeback, Marcos, I’m shattered.” Hanzo remarked mildly, and turned back to his report to Morrison. He was answered by the click of the door.

Hanzo wasn’t sure how their relationship had panned out like this, but honestly, it was thoroughly enjoyable. Even he and Satya only bitched about other people – not at each other, and their exchanges were rare. And if he and Genji started their bitch fights, everyone got very nervous, including Hanzo, who still didn’t really know where the line was and when he might cross it. But McCree? Oh he could throw down the gauntlet any day. Hanzo smirked to himself, then yawned. With the other agent gone, he could let down his composure a little – it had been over 24hrs since he’d slept last, but he was no stranger to long hauls. Although it would have to be takeaways for dinner again tonight; he didn’t trust himself to try and recreate Raiju’s noodles on so little rest.

Hanzo finished the last sentence on his report, then cocked a sensitive ear to gather if either of the teenagers had chosen to be mobile. It seemed not. So Hanzo clicked the concealed tracking device implanter out of his tablet and went to inject their shoes.

***

McCree knew he’d left a little early, but it always did well to scope a place and persons out ahead of time. However, the glorified Surf ‘n Turf house didn’t have a large perimeter, it had usual safety surveillance, and a quick profile on the staff checked out. Honestly, McCree didn’t really need to do any of that shit. He was just restless. Hanzo made him restless. To be honest, the waiting around undercover work came kinda made him antsy – although usually not more than he could distract himself from. But that man gave him pent up energy (god forbid he thought the word ‘tension’) that walking around and smoking, and doing usual routine check-ups helped with. Still, with all that done he had another ten minutes before the principal was expected to show.

McCree eased back into the mini-van (he’d pulled a Hanzo and outright refused the Douchewagon his ‘husband’ was so besotted with), and checked his phone. Trends, local news… what the.  
McCree squinted at his phone, and his expression darkened at a sub-headline under some article about planetary alignments:

White Tiger Noodle Shop Burns

When he clicked on the article, a before and after picture loaded: one a blackened shell, the other…the exact same noodle shop Hanzo had been distracted by on their debut into town.  
“What in the hell did you do.” McCree growled, about to call his murderous husband, when a few lines in the article caught his attention.

_Although forensics confirmed that the blaze was accidentally ignited, a similar fire across town at the cross-company-owned Koi Fisheries has incited police investigation further into the case._

“What kinda idiot…” McCree couldn’t believe Hanzo would be that stupid. One fire for whatever reason, it looked like he could have gotten away with. Two on the same night? Was he trying to get noticed? McCree tapped in the first digit of Morrison’s contact number, then just paused. He had no idea what to even tell him. To be honest, he hadn’t even confirmed if Hanzo had been a part of it.

“Dammit.” McCree scowled and shoved his phone back into his pocket. When he got home, Hanzo was gettin’ the sharp edge of his tongue, that was for sure. But for now… McCree saw a figure he’d recognized from profiling move across the carpark. He took a deep breath, eased his face into a smile (he was surprised it didn’t hurt, he’d gone without for so long), and stepped out of the car. A few long strides had him good n’ caught up.

“Hola mi amigo!” He offered his hand with a smile, and the principal started a little, then beamed back. “Principal Fonseca?”  
“Ah, hola recién llegado.” She took his hand. “I’m surprised you recognized me, Mr Sierra-Kubo!”  
“Hey now, you can call me Marcos. And I’d know the face on the front of all my kids’ subject pamphlets anywhere.” He chuckled and offered his arm. “If I may escort you in, it’d be my pleasure.”

“Oh, well, I don’t see why not.” Fonscera tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear, and happily took his arm. “You know, you’re the first teacher we’ve employed without an interview. We were severely rushed, what with Mrs Mendez’s unfortunate accident, and you come with the highest commendations.”  
“Well, feel free t’ interrogate me all ya please.” He shot her a wink, and opened the restaurant door. “It’d be great to get to know you and all the staff, really.”  
“I was thinking that. Well, hopefully it won’t be much of an interrogation. But teaching methods etcetera, and you’re familiar with our rules system?” Fonscera led them to a table large enough for a good collection of the school’s teachers. The only other occupant (a balding older man) looked up, and gave Fonscera a little wave. If McCree had to bet, he’d say English teacher. They were always the early nerds.  
“In Spanish _and_ English.” He grinned and took a seat beside her as the omnic waiter came up with a wine list. See Hanzo? You didn’t need a swanky suit to get everywhere in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McCree and Hanzo both like to get up in people’s space to intimidate, but neither of them back down so they gonna end up inches away a LOT ;)))))))   
> Big shout out to google translate  
> Also sorry like, literally nothing happens in this chapter, we’ll get spicy next time  
> But if you have any thoughts on this chapter please leave a comment! I love to hear what y'all think n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. One.....Bed

It was only 10pm by the time McCree got home, because all the teachers, including himself, had admitted they all needed to get up at a heinous hour tomorrow and couldn’t stay up any later. They all seemed like nice people. Even the more haughty ones were nice in contrast to the quite literal dragon he had to come home to. Speak of the devil… 

McCree unlocked the front door with his handprint, and slipped inside, primed and ready for a crisp bout of sass. But he was only met with a dim room illuminated by the upstairs hallway.  
“Hm.” McCree frowned and plucked off his boots. Hanzo must have gone to bed. Or something. He tried to keep his thoughts neutral on that topic. If Hanzo was asleep did he just get into bed with him? Wake him up? Go sleep on the couch? Would that make it seem like he was avoiding the situation a little _too_ much? He sighed, and rolled his eyes at himself. Hanzo could deal with sharing a bed. They’d both agreed to the cover after all. End of story.  
Then all his self-resolve sort of caught fire and exploded when he ever so silently opened the door to their bedroom.

Hanzo was reclined back against the pillows in what looked like nothing but a gold-embroidered, deep blue silk robe. One of his knees was bent so that the silk had slipped down to an almost indecent height on his smooth, bare leg, and his usually done-up hair fell in a sleek black sheen about his shoulders. Cooie. Had McCree hit his head somewhere between here and the car? The only thing that’d make this more unrealistic was if Hanzo had a rose between his teeth.

“You’re back.” The man didn’t even look up from whatever game he was passing the time with on his tablet. Ah. There was the realism.  
“Well now we got a firm grasp of the obvious.” McCree cleared his throat, and set his hat on the dresser. Then he remembered the dinosaur bone he had to pick with his sweetums. “You didn’t happen t’ change your mind about getting a nice ol’ serving of noodles last night, did ya?”

Hanzo’s finger froze above the screen. He knew. And he knew McCree knew. He set his tablet to the side with a sigh, and shot McCree a hard stare.  
“It was a Matsumoto Clan front. I will not tolerate Yakuza activity in my neighbourhood.” Hanzo’s jaw ticked beside his malcontent pout.  
“Your neighbourhood.” McCree prowled forward, tone dangerous as he brought up the article. “Cause last time I looked Koi Fisheries was on the other side of the goddamn city. Now one little front – not so suspicious. But two on the same night, the same method? I’ll have to talk to Morrison about changin’ your file IQ.”

As he talked Hanzo’s eyebrows dipped. Confusion. Not what McCree had expected.  
“Give me that.” Hanzo leaned up, and in a lightning fast motion snatched the phone. McCree tried not to notice how the silk neck of his robe slipped down off a blue-tattooed shoulder as he read. Come on. He’d seen Hanzo’s left titty more than he’d seen his own left titty. No biggie.

In a flash, Hanzo had his own phone in his hand, pushed a speed-dial number, and snapped it up to his ear.  
_“Genji!”_ Was the only word McCree understood before an angry tirade of Japanese, but it was all he needed. After a few heated moments, there was what sounded like a scuffle on Genji’s end, then McCree could just pick up Zenyatta’s cool tone.  
“Hanzo. I have disciplined Genji for his little regression already. Perhaps you should get McCree to do the same?” Zen only just finished before Hanzo, glaring daggers, hung up.

“Sorry darlin’, this cowboy don’t use horsewhips.” McCree said in his most sardonic tone, but Hanzo pointedly ignored the last five seconds.  
“Even if there are investigations, they will find nothing.” Hanzo announced and put his phone back down on the bedside drawers as McCree got started on his shirt buttons. “We leave no trace, not even the money trails. They cannot track anything here.”  
“You better be hopin’.” McCree drawled, stood, and tossed his shirt beside his hat on the chair. Maybe he took the childish route and flexed a little bit as he stripped to see if Hanzo got any kind of flustered. Nothin’. Ah well, no accounting for taste. As McCree turned away, he missed Hanzo’s very much in-denial ogle. “And now I’m wondering what to tell our dear Commander.”

The archer looked at him down his nose, even though he was still seated on the bed. “Tell him what you wish. He cannot withdraw us now.”  
“You know, most days I’d clap at seein’ a front go down. Daresay it, be impressed.” McCree tugged his belt loose out of his jeans, and noted how Hanzo’s eyes flicked to the movement. Probably judgin’ this buckle as well. “But that was a dumbass move. Don’t pull that shit again.”

He pointed at the haughty archer, circled round the bed, and pulled back the covers. Hanzo looked outraged, but not, as McCree was soon to find out, at the rebuke.  
“You are wearing jeans to bed.”  
“What, you want me to wear? A glittery purple thong?” McCree retorted as he tucked Peacekeeper under his pillow. “I ain’t gettin’ redressed for every night patrol.”  
“Hm.” Hanzo made a little grunt of disapproval, and with anyone else, McCree would have just left it at that. But Hanzo’s judgemental, arrogant glare just _pushed his buttons._

“What, you’re happy to fight Talon in a nightgown?” He gestured at Hanzo’s elegant get-up, and shuffled down into the king bed. Despite himself, he really wanted to touch the robe and see what real silk felt like. Because knowing Hanzo, it was the best of the best.  
“I am capable of peak performance in any attire.” Hanzo flipped back his side of the covers, and McCree’s mind boggled. He’d have liked to see the training for that. “And you don’t _sleep_ in a silk robe.”

He rolled his eyes, as if it was knowledge as common as using a toothbrush. Then McCree’s brain caught up with the verbal cues, and he only just rolled on to his back, hands under his head, to stonily stare at the ceiling as Hanzo turned around. In McCree’s peripheral vision, the muscular archer slipped it off, and hung it up on the bedroom door hook. Damn. He knew it was summer, but did Hanzo really have to wear just boxer briefs to bed? On the other hand, it just made him more of an asshole for being sexy and knowing it. What a _bastard._

“Goodnight.” Hanzo said in the bitchiest tone known to mankind, and flipped the switch near the door. McCree didn’t reply, only allowed himself a small, angry glance sideways in the gloom. Mostly naked Hanzo slid in bed beside him, graceful as a cat, then rolled over, so all McCree could see was his broad back. Shit, what a back though. Get a goldarn grip McCree, the cowboy grumbled to himself in his head, and turned over as well. His night-time paranoia would wake him up on instinct every few hours for patrol. So unless Hanzo was a sleep-strangler like his brother, everything should go fine.

***

Hanzo had been woken up by many things. A bucket of water (Genji). Three chickens (Genji). Fire (Genji). The surprise weekday assassins (his father). But never a violin being stabbed to death, or whatever McCree’s godawful alarm was made out of.

_“Cree.”_ Was all Hanzo growled out. It had been a rough night. Broken by patrols. By unfamiliar breathing and proximity. But the worst thing? Hot. And McCree was like having a furnace in bed beside him. So, overheated Hanzo came more to himself to find he’d spread-eagled himself over most of the bed to try and cool down. McCree had obviously tried to escape, had turned on to his side away from Hanzo on the _very edge_ of the mattress, but he couldn’t have fully managed it without literally falling off the bed. Now Hanzo had to come to terms with the fact that he had one hand thrown over McCree’s very nicely cut hip. _Urghh._ It had never crossed Hanzo’s mind (why would it?) that underneath McCree’s bulky chest armour he had to be a Dorito man. 

“What? You gonna break my fingers too?” McCree’s gravelly morning voice was far too low to be allowed. Hanzo considered shoving him off the bed so he didn’t have to deal with that.  
“What?” Hanzo grumbled, and lifted his face off the pillow slightly as he tried to retract his hand like it might activate a booby trap. McCree’s muscular waist twitched, but the other man didn’t mention it.  
“Y’ muttered something in your sleep about ‘if he’s wrong about the sum, break his fingers’.” 

McCree sat up, realized he was far too close to the edge of the bed to do so, and then there was a muffled _thud_ as he fell off. Hanzo frowned. The accounting dream had come back?  
“Ya damn hellcat!” The cowboy hissed as he stumbled upright. “What does one man need with all that space?”  
“Breakfast in bed would be nice.” Hanzo mumbled back, then gave a languorous stretch under the covers so that his spine cracked in all the right places. He looked over his shoulder to see the closest thing to McCree’s death glare without it literally being red-tinged and a harbinger of imminent doom. Half naked and irate came dangerously close to looking good on McCree.

“Yer lucky I don’t tip a bowl o’ cereal on you where you lie for that.” The taller man grouched and picked up a fresh pair of jeans and shirt from drawers, but not before Hanzo caught a glimpse of yet another belt.  
“McCree. You cannot be serious.” Hanzo flipped over to prop himself up on his forearms, and raised one single judgemental eyebrow at the ‘SIR’ written in big gold letters.  
“Kids gotta know who’s boss.” McCree shrugged and disappeared into their sizable ensuite. 

The worst part about it was that Hanzo had no idea whether McCree was pulling some magnificent jest, or whether he was dead serious. Hanzo just couldn’t read him. And that was a miracle in itself.  
“Just how many porn studios _have_ you robbed?” Hanzo called after the cowboy and his infuriating Venus dimples.  
“Just the one and it weren’t for belts!” McCree shot back.  
“Well I don’t know if that’s weirder or not.” Hanzo muttered to himself as the shower started up. Oh well. He’d better go and wake up the children.

McCree almost hit the shower floor when an airhorn shattered the peaceful morning quiet.  
“Alright children, I know you can hear me.” Hanzo barked from the hallway. “First one ready gets cold hard cash.”  
“How much?” Came a weak groan from Toshiro’s room.  
“Don’t sass me boy! You’ve just given your sister a head start.”  
Honestly, it was a much better wake-up call than McCree had received at that age. If he was stubborn, Morrison would suplex him off the top bunk. McCree had no idea what Hanzo’s parents and/or caregivers had thrown at him, but maybe they needed to figure out a method other than cash bribery and a foghorn for their morning routine.

**Meanwhile…**

“Yamazaki-san, there’s been some bad news.” Mariko clutched her report tablet, face grim as she approached the regional manager’s desk.  
“What is it, dweeb?” Yamazaki-san sneered, feet crossed on top of his desk. He didn’t even look up from _Octopus Girls: The Tenctacling_ anime that he watched on repeat every day for some reason. Mariko could almost mimick the sucker sounds to perfection at this point. 

“Koi Fisheries and The White Tiger have been destroyed. Over a million dollars’ worth in goods damage, and loss of a unmonitored smuggling port in that area.”  
“Cause?” Yamazaki-san scoffed, and barely looked away from his holo-table monitors.  
“Intentional, that’s for sure.” She flicked the information on to the holo-table projection for him to peruse - when his lordship deigned it time. Mariko rolled her eyes as Yamazaki-san made her wait. She was surprised she had not murdered him for his job yet. But he was related to the Boss, so unless she did it clean and quiet, a finger would be the least she would lose.

A well-known face popped up on the screen, and Yamazaki-san finally deigned to pay attention.  
“Shimizu Kurou, generally known as ‘Raiju’, emptied the bank accounts of all his employees and the restaurant into his own account. He then transferred everything into a bank account we cannot access in Switzerland. Everyone involved in the front mysteriously died.”

“What is this, some crime novel, you penned out drinking wine in your underwear?” Yamazaki-san gave her a cocky look, but she just soldiered on, and pulled up some news articles.  
“Everyone in the restaurant died in the fire. Others that weren’t there that night had some…interesting accidents.” She scowled, and wondered if she should keep an eye out on her favourite show: _Crime Time: Worst, Best and Mysterious_ for this case. “Mori – heart attack. Saitou – choked on a chicken bone. Tachibana – electrocuted herself with a toaster. Yoshida – alcohol poisoning. Ueda – get this – ‘slipped on a discarded banana peel and fell back on to a knife propped up in her drying rack.’ It goes on.”

She shot Yamazaki-san a beleaguered look. “Looks like Raiju’s hit and run game was as good as his noodles.”  
“And the port?” He frowned, maybe taking this slightly seriously. But the mood was hard to read, given the continuous tentacle noises and anime girl moaning in the background.  
“No money removed, but that’s probably because Raiju didn’t know the workers. Non-present staff are still alive.” Mariko hadn’t seen this scale of clan betrayal clan since the infamous Shimada incident. “Should we take this higher?”  
“For a small fry like Raiju?” Yamazaki-san scoffed. Small fry?? “Monitor the airports, trains and sea systems. Pick up the credit trails and pull up security cameras.”  
“The cameras at the locations were wiped for the full night.” That fact made Mariko uncomfortable. “Yamazaki-san, Raiju’s record shows no proof for this level of skill in these areas.”

Either Raiju had a very mysterious past, or they were missing something.  
“Listen, I don’t know whether you sleep on the left side or the right side of the bed.” Yamazaki-san snorted and shrugged. “I’ll file a report, but I’m not bothering the Boss directly with this. Now get out of here and do what I told you.”  
“Yes sir.” Mariko clenched her jaw, gave a short bow, and stalked off. Something wasn’t right here. But if the evidence pointed to Raiju, she’d damn well investigate Raiju.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Yakuzi time 8)  
> Our boys survived night 1 of sharing a bed. Just.  
> I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, so lemme know what your fav moment was or what you think will happen next, or anything really! I just love to hear from y'all :D  
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	7. Country Music Entrapment (Part 1)

In all her years of moving schools and countries, Kimba had never had a school morning like this morning; woken up by what sounded like Goosezilla, been slapped a fresh twenty for having her new shoes on first by a trophy husband in a silk robe that was far too short (while a cantankerous cowboy made snide comments about noodles for some reason), and had been introduced to the Country Yodelling station on the drive to school. They were really in weirdo central with this pair.

“So, tell me everything about him!” Kimba’s over-zealous guide whispered to her as Marcos read out the school newsletter. That’s right. She was that unlucky. Dad 1 was not just her Spanish teacher, but her homeroom teacher. And the only reason she had a friend right now was because he was apparently ‘a snack’.  
“He smokes, he spits, he never smiles and he has a trophy husband.” Kimba listed every bad quality about their new teacher because she did _not_ want a continuation of this conversations.

“Ooh-hoo-hoo, I’d better brush up on my looks.” Yazhu ran a hand through their red-dyed tips and shot Marcos a toothy smile. Kimba wasn’t actually sure whether Marcos saw or not, cause he kind of had a way of looking _through_ people rather than at them. Probably lost in the thought of either trying to kill or angrily bang Hideki. Then again, if Marcos got fired for weird conduct with a student, she wouldn’t have a teacher dad and husbands of the year might get a well-needed divorce.  
“You know what, yeah, give it your best shot.” She muttered, and glared as Marcos put the morning notices down.

“Alright, niños. We got five minutes – or cinco minutos if ya want to get your Spanish practice in – before la campana.” He gestured at the bell. “So y’all can chat or whatever.”

Marcos sat back on the chair and put his boots up on the desk before pulling a guitar out of the blue.  
“Does he always dress like that?” Yazhu asked excitedly. “And omigosh, he plays guitar?”  
“First answer, tragically yes.” She hadn’t missed the SIR belt buckle this strange man had decided was appropriate. “Second answer, I don’t know.”  
Kimba shrugged as Yazhu tugged at the back of a broad-shouldered blonde girl’s jersey in front of them.  
“Helga! What do you think of the new guy?” Yazhu hissed. Helga spun around and braced her hands on the table.  
“Hot!” Helga looked over her shoulder as Marcos began to strum probably his own self-created theme music. “I’d say a nine, maybe even a ten. Much better than Mrs Mendez.”

_“I’m a child of the smoke and flame boy, hit ‘em in the dead of night. Just a child of the blood an’ pain, getting’ fed by the desperate cries, ”_ Marcos sang to himself under the buzz of the class, and both Yazhu and Helga just about had a hernia.  
“Ten it is!”  
“He can _sing!”_  
They whispered at the same time.

“Yeah, he can.” Kimba looked at Marcos with a touch of surprise. He always looked too... grumpy for singing. She rubbed at the square outline of her harmonica in her new jeans by way of old habit. Perhaps he knew some other music stuff.  
“I’m going to have a hard time concentrating on Spanish this year.” Helga sighed as Marcos continued, in his own happily naïve little bubble.

_“I got a darkness inside, That never seems to go away, Come alive when the sun goes down, Run from the light o’ day,”_ Marcos looked up, and not for the first time, Kimba felt a shiver of unease. Or maybe those lyrics were just super cheesy. Either way, the chatter of the class trailed off a little bit.

_“Everybody knows when the East wind blows, that the Devil is on his way – and I’m coming with the hellfire, Yeah I’m coming with the hellfire.”_ Marcos plucked the last note with his metal hand, just in time for the bell to ring. Yazhu started an enthusiastic clap, which Helga and her buddies joined in with. Marcos just shifted his hat lower across his eyes and strummed a quiet chord. Kimba had to hand it to him, he was trying to look cool, and he did look pretty cool. Not that she’d ever let Shiro hear her say that.

“Y’all’ll be late for yer next class.” He jerked a thumb at the door, and Kimba picked up her bag. At least Yazhu had Music with her next, and she wouldn’t have to be re-allocated a friend.  
“Hey sir!” One of the boys at the back piped up.  
“¿Que, chico?” Marcos drawled without looking up. Kimba didn’t know Spanish (yet), but that just _sounded_ like an insult.  
“How did you lose your arm?”  
“Wait, wait, wait, I don’t care if we’re late.” Yazhu tugged her back by the sleeve as Marcos played three, pointed, very scary notes. Even Shiro hadn’t dared to ask that, although it might have been on his to-do list. But Kimba was curious, so she didn’t protest.

“Was about your age.” Marcos tapped the body of his guitar. “Asked a man on the street the same thing. He thought it necessary to give a demonstration. Now y’all better hurry on before I think _you_ might need one.”  
“You’re scary sir!” The guy responded cheerfully, then fled out the door.

“Best get goin’, Kimba.” Marcos leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Given he seemed to lurk around the house in the middle of the night (Kimba had got one hell of a fright going to the bathroom), she wasn’t surprised he needed a nap. “Don’t want no late report from Ms Okonkwo.”  
“Yeah yeah.” She sighed. Wait, Marcos knew her timetable?  
“Byee~” Yazhu waved behind them, undeterred by Marcos’s very much shut eyes. As soon as they got out of the room, Helga sighed.  
“He’s so mysterious!”  
“I think he lowkey threatened to rip Karl’s arm off.” A short guy on Helga’s other side frowned at them.  
“My hero.” Yazhu sighed, then grabbed Kimba’s hand. “Come on, Music Dep’s this way!”

***

A knock at the door snapped Hanzo out of his meditation which might have been a badly disguised nap – it had been a rough night, and only the dragons had to know. He picked up his phone, and checked the front door micro-camera. Hm. A woman with a tray. She didn’t look like a threat. But then again, neither did Lucio until he booped you into a bottomless pit. Hanzo wondered how Doomfist was doing down there. 

In any case, he picked up his Glock 26 pocket pistol, snatched up his silk robe so as to conceal it in a sleeve and headed for the door. He just checked his bun in the hallway mirror to make sure he looked perfect for friend or foe, then eased the door open – not quickly enough to seem eager, and not slowly enough to seem suspicious. Oh, father’s emergency door-opening classes in case of missing servants were all coming back now. A middle-aged woman with mousey brown hair stood before him in activewear, and flashed a chemically white smile.

“Hi! I’m Linda from down the road. Matron of the neighbourhood, some call me!” She beamed, balanced her tray, and stuck out a hand. “You can always find me up bright and early, doing my powerwalks after I’ve dropped off the kids – if you’re not snoozing the day away!”

She crinkled her nose in what was meant to be an endearing smile. Hanzo despised her immediately.  
“You may call me Sierra-Kubo-san.” He shook her hand with the one that didn’t have a gun in it. “I do not think I have ever met anyone who believes bragging equates with politeness, so you are indeed refreshing.”

Linda’s mouth dropped for a second, much to Hanzo’s satisfaction. But they both knew if they acknowledged one another’s underhanded insults, then they lost.  
“Well I try my best, Mr Sierra-Kubo-san.” She did that on purpose, Hanzo was sure, as he took in her forced smile. “Here, I made you and your family some cookies. Sweet enough to melt any sourpuss!”  
“Hm.” Hanzo gave the tray he was handed a dismissive glance. “I’m sure the children will ingest them. They eat just about anything.”  
“Tried and tested huh?” She gave the most irritating titter. “Anyway some of us can’t stand around all day and chat!”

Linda waved, then jogged off in a cloud of middle-class perfume. Unfortunately, Hanzo couldn’t shoot a civilian in public. So he headed back indoors, tossed his gun on the settee and slipped his phone out his silk pocket.

“Genji!” He barked as the dial tone clicked up. “What are your rates?”  
“Ugh…” Genji’s morning groan was all too familiar. “Hundred dollars an hour. One fifty for anything weird. BYO robo-dick if you want it special, no extra.”  
“Genji. I pray to the dragons this is a joke.” Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose to try and dismiss all of that. “I meant assassinations.”  
“Hanzo!” Genji seemed much more awake now. “And no, I’m not a merc for hire.”  
“I hate how you specified that.” Hanzo sighed. “Goodbye.”  
“Bye! Don’t kill anyone!” Genji replied happily before he got hung up on. Oh well. It had been a nice thought.  
“Better get dressed for my business date.” Hanzo grumbled to himself, left Linda’s power-play cookies on the kitchen island and picked up his discarded gun. A pamphlet on the coffee table caught his eye.

**Contribute to your school today! Join the PTA!**

And underneath it was a bright, smiling picture of the epitome of a well-oiled team. Featuring Linda. Oh, Hanzo was already writing in a request to join. For intel. To flesh out their cover. Oh yes. Definitely those reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's time to get _PETTY_
> 
> if any of the Spanish is wrong, please tell me! Google translate is all I have T.T [Here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gmb6rbOZko) the song McCree was singing... it's from a genre of music called Dark Country, which is has big Gothic Cowboy Energy. It's all amazing, so hit me uP SON if ya want dramatic cowboy song recs! Other than that, I'd love to know what you think of these disaster men so far, so leave a comment or some kudos if you enjoyed! Next chapter's gonna be a bit different, so there's some spicy variety to look forward to ;)
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	8. 🎵Hello From the Dark Side🎵

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn’t meant to be a whole chapter but it turned into a whole chapter oops

The creak of their shipping container door woke Reaper up from his old man nap, and he snapped a shotgun up at the sliver of light.  
“Oh, You’re back.” Sombra gave her laptop a bored tap as Akande with a face like thunder was revealed.  
“You ‘ave a little…” Amelie brushed her own shoulder to indicate where cobwebs clung to their inspired leader, then went back to cleaning her rifle. Akande peeled them off with a low, angry noise.

“I have been lost in the drains for days! And none of you found me?”  
“Sounds like the pits.” Sombra deadpanned, and Akande’s glare could have rivalled Ingrate Cowboy’s for deadliness.  
“You were in a _hole_ lot of trouble then?” Amelie said mildly, and unclipped the side of her gun to dust the inside.  
“And you?” Akande put the hand that wasn’t a giant gold fist on his hip and scowled deeper.  
“Nothing from me,” Reaper crossed his goth boots on top of the stolen lawn table Sombra and Amelie were working on with a heavy _thunk._ “considering the gravity of the situation.”  
“And there it is.” Akande growled, and began to work on the removal of his oversized prosthetic.

“So the Ilios pit does have a bottom.” Reaper had always wondered. In fact, everyone had always wondered. That pit was nigh mythological.  
“Eventually.” Akande scowled, then looked around. “You live like this?”  
“Yeah. A seat for our fearless leader.” Reaper said with no small amount of sarcasm, and gestured to a stolen plastic lawn chair. There was a dull clunk in the moment of silence as Akande’s gold fist hit the ground. He did not take Reaper’s generous lawn chair offer. They only had four.

“We blew all our funds on the Ilios omnic army.” Sombra sighed, and tapped away some more. “I’m sifting through other successful organizations to steal from.”  
“And?” Akande paced around in the red-tinged gloom (Reaper had been proudly in charge of the interior decorating).  
“I tried Overwatch, but they had five dollars and fifty cents in their account. Their only bank statements were labelled ‘1 Minute Noodles’ and ‘Kleenex for crying’. I honestly considered donating instead it’s so sad.” Sombra massaged her temple. Ah, just like the good old days in Blackwatch. Except usually the Kleenex doubled for blood staunching as well.

“How about Miss Song’s funds? Or Correia dos Santos?” Akande sounded particularly venomous as he said the last name. “Drain that DJ’s bank account.”  
“Why?” Reaper genuinely wondered. Out of all the people or organizations…  
“Haha, he put Akande in The Pit.” Amelie sounded genuinely amused for once. “Twice.”  
“He works for Overwatch, he messes with Vishkar business and – “  
“He put you in The Pit, and you’re vindictive?” Reaper finished, and Akande glowered and balled a fist.  
“….yes.”

“If I hack his account, it’s likely Overwatch will get my current method to analyse. Won’t be able to work on encrypting their messages for a while if they get that.” Sombra shrugged.  
“Pfft, messages. We can do without those.” Akande stalked forward at tapped hard on the table. “I want that rollerskating menace bankrupt!”  
“Okie dokie boss, whatever you say.” Sombra said with the air of a chaotic entity that was unbothered by most outcomes. Probably because she took a hefty cut of the transfer before the organization she worked for even saw it. 

Reaper honestly didn’t know why she was seated here, in a plastic lawn chair, in a shipping container lit by red bargain fairy lights, but he suspected it wasn’t just from the goodness of her heart. Reaper, for his part, and Amelie were generally considered freaks of nature. Thus, their employment outside of shady organizations was incredibly limited, and Reaper preferred he be somewhere where he was one-fifth of the democratic vote where decisions were concerned. Moira had been convinced by visions from The Nether (fuelled by mushrooms she had found growing in her lab) that Talon would be great again, and then Akande had arrived to make their happy little family semi-organized.

“Where’s O'Deorain?” Akande looked around to presumably see if the scientist had spent this entire conversation as a fine black mist – or Haunter Form as she called it. As much as Reaper understood the urge to spend time lurking as a nebulous shadow, in this confined space they’d be inhaling her, which would be another, unwanted level of workplace relationship.

“There was some sort of nerd gathering nearby.” Reaper pointed at his tablet in the centre of the table. Well, technically it was Amelie’s, but she didn’t have pockets and refused any sort of bag (even hand embroidered, the ungrateful wench) , so Reaper looked after it and used it pretty much all the time.  
“You must know it’s called ‘anime’ by now Gabriel. Moira has said so enough.” Amelie started to unscrew and carefully order some very tiny screws as Akande examined the event with a sigh.  
“Nerd. Gathering.” Reaper growled pointedly.  
“Well we can have the brief now anyway I guess.” Akande put the tablet back down on the table with a small thunk. “Take it away, Sombra.”

“Okay, just let me…” There was a moment of hurried tapping, then Sombra snapped out of her hacking haze. “Right, so Mr and Mrs Abiatti, our extremely influential political friends, can’t be blackmailed by the info I would have retrieved if I was sent in – “  
“Sombra…”  
“Alright Sir Isaac Newton,” She rolled her eyes, and Reaper stifled a chortle. “we know for sure that they have two children: Toshiro and Kimba Abiatti. Profiles: Both adopted, as for work and personal reasons as Mrs Abiatti didn’t want to give birth. Kimba: - “  
She brought up a picture of a dark-skinned, smiling buck toothed girl.

“ - 14 years old. Blood parents killed in the successful repulsion of Null Sector forces from Ethiopia and Eritrea. Found by Somalian relief and adopted out at nine months. Our photograph is three years out of date, as the children have been moved and closely guarded, and have not become significant players until now.” By the way her lip bunched, Sombra seemed displeased with the minimal amount of information she was able to provide, but she brought up a second holograph of a young Asian male. Something about his general air of angriness reminded Reaper fondly of their dear red-eyed cyborg. Oh, he’d been so proud of that design. 

“This is Toshiro. 16 years old. Adopted from a Japanese brothel-worker at 4 months. As with Kimba, our photo is three years out of date. We know that they are currently in America, but narrowing down locations is tricky as, since their move to the U.S three years back, they have kept everything off digital record.” Sombra scowled. Her only weakness – physical paperwork.  
“They could be living somewhere remote?” Amelie uncorked her gun oil with a pop.  
“Or maybe that’s what they want us to think.” Reaper added with a grim edge of drama, and slid his boots to the floor. Lit by the red light as he leaned forward across the table, he bet he looked _cool_. If only it wasn’t a lawn table.

“In any case,” Akande interrupted Reaper’s Moment. “If the Abiattis have employed Overwatch, Overwatch definitely know about these two. They will send agents to closely guard them.”  
He turned to Reaper. “Who is most likely to be put on this mission, so that we can rightfully prepare and track?”  
“We could get you a parachute or jetpack just in case?” Sombra offered, and pointedly hit Enter of her keyboard. “Courtesy of one Lucio Correia dos Santos?”  
Akande only graced that with a silent glare.

“Jack’s too depressed and self-important to send himself.” Reaper picked at a claw, and tried to ignore Amelie’s raised eyebrows and side-eye at Sombra. “If Reinhardt and Ana Amari aren’t dead by now they might go. Fareeha Amari’s also viable. They might send a medic – Lucio is too prominent, so Angela or that monk who had a balls-off with Moira over the angry Shimada might be there.”  
“Zenyatta.” Amelie hummed, and polished her rifle fondly, as if lost in a happy (did she feel happiness?) memory.

“Tracer’s almost a definite,” Reaper continued, and Amelie’s expression hardened again. “And we know Brigitte and Zarya are away in Russia thank goodness.”  
“How about your ‘cowboy ingrate’ who you so often refer fondly to?” Sombra inquired, as Akande brought up the profiles of the possible agents on their collective single tablet. There was a moment of silence. Then Reaper and Amelie burst out into a fit of laughter so hard that Reaper swore he started crying blood or whatever oozed out of him nowadays. Blood would be cool though. Amelie just wheezed painfully like a dusty accordion that hadn’t been played in a century.

“McCreeheehee – “ He coughed and smacked the table. “Overwatch would only send that _pendejo_ if they wanted those kids to die in a freak rodeo accident. Next you’ll be suggesting Bastion or that drug lord brother of Genji’s!”  
“Tch, so I don’t know your old team-mates, sue me.” Sombra rolled her eyes, and looked back down at her laptop screen whereupon Lucio’s bank account was probably being drained dry.

“So our most likely agents: Reinhardt, Ana, Pharah, Zenyatta, Tracer, and Angela.” Akande listed off.  
“What about Mei?” Amelie frowned.  
“Last I heard, the whole Arctic crew died in cryo.” Reaper shrugged. He hadn’t really known Mei that well.  
“Also, I shot Pharah in the head.” Amelie poked at the hologram of Captain Amari’s forehead.  
“And I believe I broke Reinhardt’s entire ribcage, but with the tier of healing Angela alone is capable of, we have to be ready for instant recovery.” Akande glared at Angela’s profile. “I say our next mission is to assassinate Angela for once and for all. Then they won’t come back so easily.”  
“Seconded.” Amelie shrugged. “I ‘ave always looked at her head and thought ‘that would be nice to shoot’.”

Sombra shot her a perturbed look for that.  
“What? You have never seen a computer and thought ‘that would be wonderful to hack’?”  
“Fair enough. You’ve got me there.” Sombra sighed, and looked a little dreamy. “I’ve always wanted to hack the Hubble Telescope Control Centre. Just for fun. But it’s on a remote server. I would have to infiltrate NASA...” 

“Maybe we can do that as a celebration sometime – you know, like the Venice Carnivale was Reaper’s treat for breaking me out?” Akande suggested. See, this was why Reaper liked his current shipping container situation.

“Yes! Okay, I’m in.” Sombra beamed, then went back to bankrupting Lucio.  
“I’m there.” Reaper leaned back in his chair. He’d always been a slightly bitter against Angela, the preppy Overwatch healer who couldn’t grace dirty Blackwatch with her presence. Maybe not an ‘I’ll blow your head off with a shotgun’ kind of grudge, but an ‘I don’t mind if you get sniped’ kind of grudge.  
“Wake me up when we have enough cash to buy food.” He closed his eyes as Akande lamented the fact that that sentence was even relevant in their lives right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Talon is here, actually trying to make a plot happen lol. Next chapter we will be back to our regularly scheduled shitfest. If you enjoyed the chapter, why not leave a comment! I'm not scary, and I love to talk about my fics! ^.^ 
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	9. Blackmail at Unprecedented Speeds

Hanzo’s pupils had almost turned into dollar signs when he went in to view the shop block directly opposite Kimba and Toshiro’s highschool. Children with still-developing impulse control and, in this area, a high allowance. He’d offer food. Sweet things. Games. Places to ‘hang out’. There’d be a steady flow of incoming and outgoing parents and teachers. Senior students who were allowed off school grounds at lunch breaks. It all equated to _serious money_. And there were at least two vacated shop fronts (due to heightened rent), but if he was lucky, Hanzo could buy out the entire block over time. Oh this was a _prime_ business opportunity, and unfortunately, the real estate agent had known it. 

So Hanzo walked into his first PTA meeting with his one of his cards significantly drained, but with a team of overnight omnic workers (the best) already outfitting his first shop. However, the look he saw on Linda’s face when he swaggered into the PTA meeting room was worth far more than mere dollars.

“Ah, Mr Kubo-Sierra!” She recovered, and put on her best fake smile. “I didn’t know you were joining the PTA!”  
Linda gave a plump, frizzy-haired woman beside her a meaningful, yet not-unfriendly glance.  
“Oh, sorry Linda! It was a last minute thing, you know.” The woman who Hanzo recognized as Sandra, head of the PTA, ducked a little in apology. Ah. A puppet leader.

“You know, I’m not sure we have room for someone else. Weren’t we even thinking about cutting members?” Linda’s neatly done-up eyes narrowed at Hanzo, but he’d seen McCree’s death squint. Nothing topped that for eye-threats.  
“Oh no, I completely forgot!” Sandra’s hands flew up to her mouth, but Hanzo jumped in before she could apologize and send him away.   
“Your school’s image is so _welcoming_ and _friendly_ that I’m sure you couldn’t turn away another caring parent?” Hanzo supplied with the most malicious innocence he could muster. “My only concern is bettering the experience of our youth.”

“Oh, well listen to him.” Sandra put a ruddy hand on her heart, obviously charmed. Good. He could use that. Linda glared. This had been a wonderful idea.  
“Perhaps we can discuss it later.” Linda shot her puppet leader a tight smile.  
“Ooh! Coffees!” Sandra clapped her hands in sudden epiphany, and bustled off over towards the old hot water zip. Hmm, perhaps after this meeting Hanzo would offer to replace it, and the coffee machine, which looked like something out of McCree’s grit-coffee nightmares. Nothing topped bribery like benefits to the communal whole.

“I see you didn’t bring any food to share?” Linda gave a haughty sniff, obviously displeased.  
Hanzo had thought about this a lot. It was second nature to him to bring some sort of offering to any kind of social gathering (or for somebody in his family to). But if he brought something here, Linda would _know_ that she’d got under his skin with her play of cookies this morning. This was a game of strategy now, and he had to decide how to handle his tiles.

“I was not sure what the catering arrangements were.” Hanzo eyed her back with an air of greater superiority. It would be nicer if she was shorter than him (then he could _really_ look down on her), but one didn’t need height to exude confidence.  
“Oh, used to better things, are we?” Linda scoffed, and crossed her arms.  
“I would not have referred to you as a ‘thing’, but if you insist.” Hanzo shot back coolly, and Linda’s mouth dropped open.  
“And I would have thought that someone with intelligence would mind their manners around the person who makes the decisions around here.” Linda’s eyes narrowed at an attempt at intimidation. Hanzo almost laughed.   
“Oh, I but I was being so polite.” Hanzo said with unfazed innocence, and Linda looked as though she had eaten a lemon. Such fun.

“Mr Sierra-Kubo! Your seat!” Sandra rushed back with two mugs of coffee in each hand, and gestured at a seat on the left side of the long table.  
“Here, allow me.” Hanzo cupped two of the mugs that looked dangerously close to spillage with hands trained in the crucible of hot tea.  
“Oh, what a gentleman!” Sandra beamed, let him take the cups, then bustled off towards the table.

“Coffee?” Hanzo offered a cup to Linda, whose teeth he could almost hear grinding.  
“Why thank you. It would be rude to refuse someone’s offer on their _last_ day here.” Linda pursed her glossy lips, then stalked off towards a group of three members who were arranging brought offerings. With the amount of connections Linda had, this little stint here might be difficult. But then again, he hadn’t had a social challenge like this for _years_. So Hanzo turned, and went to take his assigned seat.

Hanzo ensured that his suit jacket was bereft of any personal items, then folded it over his platinum tipped laptop bag (which not only contained the thinnest laptop Overwatch possessed, but also his bow in pieces, and arrows). He’d always been taught that in summer, it was preferable to remove a suit jacket and look a little less professional that look like a sweaty mess. Hanzo had just rolled up his sleeves high enough that the sapphire dragon cufflinks would constantly sparkle in Linda’s green-eyed peripheral vision, when the woman he recognized from their background research on the school staff as Toshiro’s Japanese teacher took a seat beside him.

“Konnichiwa! I am Sonoda, Hatsue.” She did a little bow as she sat, and held out her hand with a warm smile. Perhaps this was a PTA member he could coerce to side against Linda. So Hanzo took her hand with his most friendly handshake. He had about twenty handshakes, which ranged from charming to complete domination. He almost had to bite his tongue to stop himself from annunciating ‘Shimada, Hanzo’ in the Business Voice while holding intense eye contact. Oh, the memories were coming back.

“Sierra-Kubo, Hideki.” He nodded with (hopefully) just the right amount of imperium. Sonoda froze. Oh. Too much imperium? Then he noticed her gaze was on his other hand. More accurately, the big, meaty Yakuza tattoo on his wrist, that nobody except very powerful criminals got nowadays. Then her eyes flicked to his expensive suit. Hanzo had always excelled in maths, and it didn’t take much for him to put together her two and two to equal trouble. This was fucking _Linda’s_ fault for _baiting_ him.

“Um, good t-to meet you.” She let go of his hand with a very forced smile, and proceeded to study the tabletop with extreme focus. Hanzo had two options here: a) Lie, risk her suspicion, and potentially create a compromising situation or b) embrace the assumption, let the blackmail van deliver, and use her. He needed allies anyway, both in the school and in the PTA where Linda had a monopoly.

In Hanzo’s brief moments of consideration, Sonoda glanced back at him, then at the table, then fidgeted with her nails. Good. Nervous or scared was what he needed.  
“[I do not recommend you say anything.]” Hanzo said coolly in Japanese, but pinned her down with his most criminal gaze. He flexed his left hand to make sure she knew what he meant. Hanzo decided that this was a trivial matter that neither McCree or Morrison needed to be bothered about.  
“[Yes. Of course. Of course.]” Sonoda swallowed and continued to eyeball the table. “[Thank you very much, Sierra-Kubo-sama!]”  
She bowed towards him again, seated, and Hanzo huffed.

“[Do not grovel.]” He caught Linda shooting a suspicious, jealous look in their direction (what wouldn’t she give to be _bowed_ repeatedly to), and Sonoda straightened up. “[I am not here to cause trouble. Stay in my good books, and nothing will befall you.]”  
“[Yes, sir.]” Sonoda voice was breathless as she nodded, and Hanzo relaxed at how clearly terrified she was. It was risky, but from his experience, most people didn’t want to get tangled up in the Yakuza. Most people didn’t want to be heroes and call the law. Most people just wanted to live happy, painless lives with all of their limbs and family members intact.  
“[Or befall your husband, who works from home in that nice riverside cottage you have.]” He added, and the teacher flinched as the colour drained from her cheeks. He could have, from his research, also added her extended family in Nabari, but that would probably seem a little too personal.

“[Yes sir.]” She bowed her head, quieter this time.  
“[Good. I like you Sonoda-chan.]” He appraised her with a look, and drummed his gloved fingers on the tabletop. “[As I am new to these meetings, I am sure that if I need anything, I can come to you.]”  
“[O-of course, sir.]” The slight woman replied in a resigned, meek voice, then just about jumped out of her skin when a man even broader and taller than McCree jerked out the chair beside her. Well built, curly hair, decidedly Greek features…Hanzo might not mind getting to know him a little better.

“Hattie! Why haven’t you introduced me to your new friend yet?” The man’s voice was sharp and rude, so perhaps not. But Hanzo was pleased that he could so quickly read that applying to this man’s ego would probably be a good way to manipulate him.  
“Ah, Theo.” Sonoda-chan gave Theo a tight-lipped smile. She did not like him, plain to see. “This is Sierra-Kubo-san, a new parent at the school.”

“Nice to meet you, Sierra. I’m Theo Anagnos one of the gym teachers here.” Theo stuck out what looked like a very moist hand, and Hanzo was glad he was wearing gloves. Or was he? Hanzo didn’t even know how to wash leather gloves. In any case, Hanzo employed his Non-Threatening But Assertive handshake. He did not want to make this man feel frail, and thus hostile after all. Sonoda-chan looked absolutely horrified.

“Theo. Sierra-Kubo-san is…his last name.” She winced at how bad an explanation that was, but Hanzo had appraised this man and deemed it worthy. He also deemed that Sonoda had been successfully taken in by Yakuza entrapment.  
“Cool. Whatever.” Theo shrugged, and did not even look at her. “It’s good to have you. There are too many women around here. Now we might actually get something done.”

“Hm.” Hanzo made his best friendly yet not decisively affirmative nonchalant noise at this piece of trash. But even trash had its uses.  
“I am sure I can rely on you to support any ideas I have in these meetings then?” He said coolly, and Theo nodded. Another tool in his belt, and an expendable one too. Although, Hanzo doubted that he would have to sacrifice anyone’s fingers in the school PTA, or frame them for a murder by a higher up, but who knew? Life was wild.

***

It was a silent drive home for McCree. The two kids were already playin’ games before they’d set foot in the van, and the only way he could think of getting their attention from their headsets was shooting a bullet into the car ceiling. That’s what Morrison woulda done. That’s what Gabe woulda done. Hell, Banjo Burk of the Deadlock gang mighta even just shot him in the leg. But that’d take a lot of explaining, panel beating, and/or field triage.

McCree rolled his eyes, and squinted out the windscreen. How did you even get kids to do homework? How did you get them to help with cooking? The ghost of Hanzo waved a thick stack of bills at him in his mind’s eye, but he flipped that idea off. Bribery was all good and fine till you bribed someone too much, they hopped a train to Brazil, and ya spent 3 months hunting them down for the rest of the intel.

McCree pulled up outside their house, mind still on the tick. The usual ideas, such as life-threats, limbs-threats, and family threats were out of the question. Besides, the only family these kids had in close vicinity was himself and Hanzo, and Toshiro at least was surly with them both. Although promising Toshiro that he could slap Hanzo if he did his homework was a sure temptation, it was bound to end in blood if McCree knew anything about that man’s fuse around younger family members.

“Hey now.” McCree caught both kids by the back of the collars as he got out of the car.  
“What the hell?!” Toshiro scowled, and there was a dull thunk as he swatted McCree’s metal hand. Didn’t even take out his earbuds.  
“Y’all’re gonna help me cook.” McCree answered Toshiro’s scowl with an far more dominant scowl. “An’ you got homework?”  
“Wouldn’t you like to know, manther.” Toshiro tugged his shirt out of McCree’s hold, and shrugged him off.  
“Yeah, leggo!” Kimba wriggled on after her brother, and McCree grit his teeth as both disappeared into the door without so much as a backwards glance. 

It was then McCree noticed that Hanzo’s douchemobile was also not present. Great. He’d worked his ass off all day herdin’ these miniature monsters, keeping his eyes peeled for agents left, right, and centre, had barely scrounged a smoke, and now his _partner_ weren’t even here to help out. Boy, Hanzo was lucky McCree could nap like a cat, because if he were tired on top of it all, he might have gone head-hunting the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo’s reign of terror has begun; strap in and be afraid
> 
> Leave me a comment and tell me what you think! :D it feeds my writer soul
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	10. Hanzo Does One (1) Nice Thing (A Record)

“Good evening Cowboy Casanova, I am home.” Hanzo quipped, as he strolled in at 6pm, obviously gunnin’ for a comeback. McCree just glared. The back of his eye itched as he watched Hanzo flounce into the kitchen with even more shopping. Between this arrogant, annoyingly hot bastard, the weevils they had for children, and classes he’d had to act vaguely responsible in today, McCree had just about had it with human interaction for life. Maybe he should do a Genji and retire to a deserted Nepalese mountain for three-five working years.

“What’s wrong? Yakuza take your tongue?” Hanzo offered with the air of a man who may have once been the Yazuka holding a tongue. But strangely thrilling images of a blood-covered Hanzo aside, McCree wasn’t puttin’ up with anymore bullshit today. So he gave a huff and prowled forward, nice and slow, so as t’ watch Hanzo shift into a more cautious stance.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he growled, as his eye itched somethin’ fierce, “I work seven to three, not only teaching, but watchin’ these ungrateful mules o’ kids without you so that they don’t get swiped by terrorists. Then when I get home, you ain’t here to help. You don’t tell me yer day plans, you don’t work with me, and yer a stuck up, conceited asshole, who seems to think this is some kinda… _crime_ vacation.”  
McCree jabbed Hanzo’s thick chest with a finger. The archer’s eyes narrowed, but his face stayed almost too flawlessly neutral. Somethin’ was ticking over in there. “It’s day three and already I’m tired. And you, and them kids could be choosing to make this easier, but y’aint.”

Hanzo plucked McCree’s finger off his chest like a man might pick an insect out of his salad.   
“Alright.” Hanzo seemed to look down on him, even though he was looking up at him. “I will inform you of my daytime activities. Today, I joined the PTA to be closer to our work, and bought two shops beside the school to also stay in proximity. Tomorrow I shall be hiring staff, and increasing my repertoire with my parent-teacher contacts. I will text you every hour during the day to keep communication open if you wish.”

“I – oh.” The straight reply took McCree a little by surprise. He’d been anticipating a bit more of a fight, but about what he wasn’t sure – maybe that Hanzo spent his afternoons bathing in champagne at a Mercedes convention club or something, and would try to justify it.  
“Ok. Good.” McCree suddenly realized he was very much up in Hanzo’s space, and shifted back a little. “That’s…that.”  
“Yes.” Hanzo put one firm, elegant finger on his chest and guided him backwards, a motion that almost felt seductive if Hanzo’s expression hadn’t been the most sardonic, sourpuss pout known to man. “Now go take a break. Your eye was showing.”

McCree made an incoherent grunt and rubbed it. That hadn’t played up on accident in years goddamnit.  
“Put that in the oven when the light goes off and maybe do somethin’ with vegetables?” He waved his metal hand at the enchiladas he’d somehow constructed from an online recipe.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” Hanzo, a man who also did not know how to cook, remarked coolly.  
“I don’t, but I know how to read.” McCree held up his phone with an expression probably more bitchy than intended. At least it felt less serious again, he supposed. He actually did know how to cook campfire food, but ovens were different to fires, and a can of heated beans or flame toasted hare wouldn’t fly for a family a four.  
“You really are full of surprises.” Hanzo slid his phone out and tapped in the website McCree had used. McCree rolled his eyes, took that as a cue to snag his bottle of whiskey to soothe the itching heat inside him, and turned to head upstairs.

“Don’t burn the damn house down. You’ve burned down enough of this city already.” He couldn’t help but fire a last retort.  
“Why thank you.” Hanzo replied with the most infuriating contentment. So infuriating, in fact, that McCree had almost reached his bedroom before he realized that, if he squinted, Hanzo may have just done something nice for him.

***

Dinner made McCree even more confused. After getting Hanzo’s text, he let the kids know about their favourite time of the day, then headed downstairs.

“Well, the kitchen’s still intact.” McCree raised an eyebrow at the ground floor, then headed over to the table where a rich sauce and grilled cheese smell came from. Hanzo had laid out plates on the table, and that took him by surprised. He’d always seen Hanzo as a man that thought he deserved to be served rather than anything else.

“I only burn who and what I want to burn.” Hanzo shrugged, and scrolled through his phone as if he hadn’t given McCree Gabriel Reyes whiplash from what he’d just said. “I am looking through the job applications I have, if you are wondering.”  
“When did you put those up?” McCree frowned, and headed over to the table to sit down. It was almost nice they had something to talk about apart from bitching.  
“This morning.” Hanzo replied, then reached a very casual arm out to where Toshiro was crossing his path to get to the food, caught his wrist, spun him around and gave him a gentle push back towards the stairs.

“Hey, what the hell you weirdo!” Toshiro scowled, but Hanzo didn’t even look up.  
“This city is thirsty for jobs.” Hanzo continued mildly to McCree, then used the exact same move on Kimba too, to stop her getting past him. “Apologize to Marcos for being disrespectful, do 10 push-ups and twenty sit-ups, and then you may eat.”

Ah. So that’s why Hanzo had left out the food lookin’ so nice. McCree sighed and took a seat to watch. Did this man ever do anything without an ulterior motive?

“What, Cowboy Stripper can’t stand up for himself?” Toshiro sneered, so for that, McCree just helped himself to his food.  
“Cowboy Stripper’s too nice. I will kick his ass also if he tries to interfere.” Hanzo earned a glare for that one.  
“Huh. You couldn’t kick my ass if you tried.” McCree shot back as Kimba tried to dart past Hanzo again, was gently spun around again and repelled.It was almost as if Hanzo knew a specific martial arts for restraining annoying children – kind of like how you had to gently squish cats to calm them.  
“Please, Marcos my dear, no flirting at the dinnertable.” Hanzo practically drawled, and for some reason, it sent heat to McCree’s cheeks. No. He’d must have made these tasty enchiladas too hot.  
“Now: apologies, situps, pushups, dinner.” Hanzo pocketed his phone, and fixed the two kids with a very cold gaze. 

“I’m hungry.” Toshiro whined.  
“Tragic.” Hanzo shrugged. The two kids glanced at each other, but McCree was not the only one who saw a double-team coming from a mile away. Hanzo just ducked down, caught them both around the waists, and tossed them over his huge archer shoulders. Toshiro gave the most affronted yell, but by Kimba’s excited squeal, she seemed to be having the time of her life.

“Cooie, dinner and a show.” McCree remarked mildly as Hanzo dumped around 100kg of teenager on the couch and retreated to lean back against the doorframe like it was nothing. Dang.  
“Are you a cyborg?” Kimba asked, with an expression of elated awe similar to the one McCree believed he’d worn when he’d seen Reinhardt benchpress a small truck on a dare.  
“No. But when I was young, I did my exercise before dinner.” Hanzo crossed his arms, and McCree could barely see past him, he filled up the door frame so much. “Now, how long do we have to do this for? I have all night.”  
There was a moment of silence in which two schoolkids tried to stare down a dragon.

“Ugh, fine.” Kimba rolled her eyes and slid up from the couch.  
“Seriously?” Toshiro scowled, and crossed his arms. Bundle o’ joy, that one.  
“I want enchiladas Shiro!” Kimba pouted and ducked to look at McCree through a gap that Hanzo’s menacing silhouette didn’t cover.  
“Smart girl.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow as a challenge at Toshiro. Was he playing divide and conquer with the kids? McCree was pretty sure that wasn’t standard protocol, but then maybe it was. His only recent experience with parenting involved either minor child labour in a gang, or morally grey child soldiery in Blackwatch. Morrison hadn’t even given them a parenting book. Then again, it was bold of McCree to assume that Morrison or Winston, in fact, even knew what a parenting book was. McCree should probably get around to Googling a Wikihow on how to raise teenagers, but life had been mighty hectic for that.

“Sorry for before Marcos.” Kimba at least looked somewhat remorseful.  
“You will help him with tasks after school?” Hanzo looked down on her with all the haughtiness of a judgemental god, and she nodded with a possible dash of sincerity. “Good. Now ten pushups and twenty situps.”  
“Come on Shiro, don’t make me look weird doing it by myself.” Kimba wheedled. Toshiro just rolled his eyes.  
“Ok, Marcos, I’m sorry your husband’s such a dick.”  
“And?” Hanzo’s blatant non denial of the previous statement seemed to take Toshiro by surprise.  
“AndforwhatwedidbeforeandI’llhelpafterschool.” Toshiro said as quickly as possible, as though the words might burn him, then glowered and slid down on to the floor beside his sister.

***

Hanzo had just finished his first night shift, checked up on their cameras and their security grids, and patrolled the property perimeter for any suspicious vehicles when he slipped back into their shared bedroom. If he hadn’t known McCree was there, he would have thought the bedroom was empty; oddly enough, unless one was right beside the cowboy (which Hanzo was about to be), his breathing was almost silent. 

McCree was a great many things Hanzo had not been expecting, he thought, as he tugged his tie loose in the dark. His mind flew back to McCree, inches away from him, mouth curled into a snarl and eye curdled with red. It took a lot to intimidate Hanzo Shimada, but…well, actually he had a hard time nowadays figuring out if he was intimidated or – 

“Tch.” Hanzo tutted to himself to cut off the thought, stripped off his shirt, suit pants and socks, turned around, and almost darted on top of the cupboard in shock. A glint of circular red shone out of the darkness like something out of a fever nightmare, and before Hanzo realized what it was, a faint blue glow crackled up him in defence.  
“Oh. It’s you.” McCree’s sleep-broken voice muttered. “Yer eyes’re glowin.”  
“So is yours.”

They looked at each other for a moment, a pair of glowing idiots, and then Hanzo willed his dragons back down. Did they find McCree a threat?  
“You have _tapetum lucidum_.” Hanzo recovered as smoothly as ever, and strolled over to the bed.  
“I don’t know what the shit you have.” McCree’s grunt was broken by a yawn, and the big man shuffled over slightly to give him more room as he climbed in. “’less itsa weird dragon thing.”

Hanzo stiffened at that, then narrowed his eyes into the dark. “Genji.”  
“Hm.” McCree made a low noise in his chest. “Meant t’ thank you for before. I ain’t good with kids. Glad y’ took care of it.”  
“They must learn manners.” Hanzo slid down into the bed, relieved that McCree had changed the subject. “My mother used those fending tricks on us when we were younger.”  
He stared at the ceiling, and tried to keep his clenched jaw silent. Those memories he had not meant to bring back.  
“Still, y’ did it to help me out. That kinda nicety might go in the history books.”

Hanzo just gave a stunted laugh to cover up the hard truth that maybe he hadn’t liked seeing McCree being disrespected, and maybe had done it to be, as McCree so unfortunately put it, ‘nice’.  
“If they do not respect you they will rule you.” Hanzo coughed up a line straight from his father’s casual dinnertime conversations. “Do not accuse me of kindness.”  
That earned a cynical huff from McCree, and then they both lay there in silence for a moment until Hanzo’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Can you see in the dark?”  
There was a pause.  
“If I want to.” McCree’s voice was casually cautious. “Can you?”  
“My storm lights up the dark.” He replied. When there had been a thunderstorm over Hanamura, enemies of the Shimada Clan had known to stay indoors.  
“Hm. Dramatic.” McCree muttered, and turned on his side to face away from Hanzo. “Oh, and if you try and hog the bed, I ain’t movin’ tonight. Just lettin’ you know.”

And that’s how McCree woke up half-crushed under a grumpy, mostly naked ex-Yakuza boss, whose practically dead weight he had to toss on the floor to escape.  
“Well, now you know what it’s like.” He vaulted the disgruntled duvet on the floor, and ducked into the ensuite to hear a very unenthusiastic ‘I’ll kill you’ come from the pile. Maybe life with Hanzo could be manageable after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed last week's update, life got super duper busy :((( But i got there this week! :3   
> Please leave me a comment to tell me what you think of the chapter! ^.^
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	11. McCreepy

After _that_ morning, Hanzo’s day could only get better. At least the first shop the overnight crew had done up looked all in order – the range of Bubble Tea flavours were extensive and tempting to any child, the top quality coffee machines would cater to senior students and parents alike, and the baked goods and sushi display just needed something to fill them. 

Today, starting at 9am, Hanzo hoped to interview and acquire a chef of the expected calibre, as well as other staff. He sighed to himself, and looked around his new office. Not the space or quality he had been used to, but it would do. There was a security camera feed to his desk monitors that not only streamed the shop cameras on one screen, but also the cameras in and around their home, and the cameras at the highschool. Their easily hacked security system really did need an upgrade, but for now it was to Hanzo’s benefit. 

He had just ordered the surprise he had planned for his children, when 9am pinged on his phone.  
“First, for the punctuality test.” Hanzo muttered to himself, and strode into the main area of the café to see a young woman outside the shop door. At least the timing had not been disappointing. He would have to see about the rest, however.

“Come in.” Hanzo opened the door, and shot her his middle-tier scrutinizing gaze. His high-tier scrutinizing gaze could make tattooed gangsters dissolve into a puddle of sweat. She wore a punch-pink matching dress suit and hair bow, with black shoes and dress-shirt, and cat-eye make-up. At first impression, she seemed to be Korean in nationality. Shorter in stature than Hanzo, but not a tiny noodle reminiscent of Hana Song, whom Hanzo could probably throw like a javelin if he tried. She was presentable at least. But did this candidate have the work ethic he was after?

“You are the…manager?” She took in his expensive blue suit, nerves showing in the cadence of her voice.  
“The owner. Kubo-Sierra, Hideki.” He held out a gloved hand, which she took. Fair handshake.  
“Seo Yeon Jeong.” She swallowed, and looked around. The art and layout was friendly enough, but the lack of food made it a little barren, Hanzo admitted.  
“Follow me.” Hanzo set off at a brusque pace towards his office, and once inside, gestured to the chair opposite his desk. She took it only after he sat, which was a courtesy he could respect.

“Now you applied as a waitress and tea specialist. Tell me why you think I should choose you.” He folded his hands and propped his chin up on them to fix her with a keen gaze. She took a breath to reassure herself, Hanzo presumed.  
“I – I love tea. It’s my biggest interest. I have experience with correct flavour measurements, and working tea machines – “  
“I called your references.” Hanzo interrupted, and a look of almost desperation crossed her face. “They did not recall employing a ‘Seo Yeon Jeong’.”  
“I-it was a few years ago, perhaps they forgot about me, or deleted my records – management might have shifted…“ She tried, but Hanzo had heard more lies in his life than truths.

“Miss Jeong.” He looked her dead in the wide eyes, and she nodded, almost in defeat. “I know you forged your references before I called you in for an interview. Do you know why you are here?”  
“No sir.” She shook her head, and her watery eyes slid to examine an imperfection he knew did not exist on his desk.  
“I will ask you again. Why should I choose you.” Hanzo watched the well-presented woman chew her lip for a moment, then she took a deep breath. He could see the ‘screw it’ cross her mind, like an interrogation victim about to confess.

“Tea is my hobby. I love it. I make my own bubble tea at home for my family and friends, even with my own machine, but I haven’t saved up enough to make my own shop. Everywhere else is fully staffed, with a waiting list. Nobody wants someone without CV experience.” Miss Jeong seemed unable to stop now started, but Hanzo was fine listening. “I love tea. I have waited my whole life to work at a tea shop!”  
She smacked a fist on Hanzo’s desktop, and met his appraisal with teary, but fierce eyes. “If you have any other candidates, I will happily fight them for it. _Physically._ I know Taekkyeon, and I would kill for this job! I would send them to hell for even thinking about crafting tea with their inferior hands!”

There was a moment of silence as Hanzo waited to see if she was done, but instead her hands flew up to her mouth.  
“Oh! I am so sorry sir!” She bowed a least three time, hands together. “I didn’t mean to – “  
“You’re hired.”  
She was passionate, and keen to murder competition. Perfect, really.

“What?” Miss Jeong gaped for a moment, then bowed again. “Thank you sir!”  
“Sierra-Kubo-san, if you will. Your employment contract will be sent to your application email by tonight. I expect you at work 9am tomorrow.” Hanzo rose, and she rose too, teary eyes washed away with one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen. “Let me see you out.”  
“Yes Sierra-Kubo-san! I will be here! I will not let you down. Thank you thank you!” She seemed on the verge of giving him a hug, so he swiftly opened the café door and let her dance off down the street.

The rest of the day went similarly:

“I’m an omnic who will do whatever you want man, I just need this job.” Said an older series omnic called ZEEP, a little too scraped up to be wanted in most places.  
“Anything I want, you say?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow, then offered them the job

“I have a degree in barista-ing and I’m a heavyweight boxing champion. If you get any unwelcome visitors, I’m your man.” A large man named Brendon, who looked like he belonged in a leather-daddy club, proudly lifted his admirably bearded chin.  
“Excellent.” Hanzo ticked his name on the list. “You’re hired.”

“I’m an fitness school graduate who is all about teamwork!” A preppy blonde girl who reminded Hanzo jarringly of Dr Ziegler announced happily. “I’m the most law-abiding, friendly citizen you could find!”  
“I will consider you.” Hanzo said, as he struck her name off the list.

“I was recently rehabilitated – gang stuff you see – not too serious though.” A heavy set yet motherly-looking red-haired woman, who had obviously had her face slashed at one point, confessed, after Hanzo’s questioning. “But most people don’t like to employ ex-felons, no matter how small the misconduct.”

“It says here you stabbed several people.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow at her prison profile of ‘small misconducts’. “Including your own sister.”  
“Well not fatally!” Marie protested.  
“Was her survival an accident?” Hanzo felt this conversation was a little too openly criminal, but neither of them seemed to be acknowledging it, so whatever.  
“Of course not. I am not some willy-nilly stabber. I have skill!” The motherly woman looked affronted. Hanzo felt that was a personal dig at himself, but also saw use where use resided, so he moved on. 

“Can you fillet a fish?”  
“Of course! Steak, pork, chicken, person, you name it.” She suddenly stopped. “I mean, I would never stab a person again. I’m rehabilitated, you know.”  
“Of course. But if there were, theoretically, people who needed a small stab, would you, theoretically, provide that small stab?” Hanzo offered with cordial politeness.  
“Is this still part of the interview?”  
“Yes.”  
“I mean…theoretically. Maybe. Only if they _really_ needed it.” Marie sighed and twiddled her thumbs. “But really, I’d just like to be part of a family atmosphere again. Call me a lonely old bird I suppose.”  
“Food preparation staff and security in one.” Hanzo ticked off her name. “You’re hired.”

“I’ve had previous experience as a community volunteer for both the ambulance and police,” A very innocent-looking Canadian man almost blinded Hanzo with his purity. “so making coffees and snacks for tired folks is second nature to me!”  
“You’re up against very strong candidates.” Hanzo said, and drew a large cross next to his name. He still had not found an appropriate chef, which was worrisome, given he had one applicant left.

“I’m programmed to cheer everyone up! Service with a smile on that dial!” An omnic called Bini (that Hanzo swore he had seen before somewhere) announced in a chirpy voice. That type was very high class. Top-of-the-range, in fact. What was it doing here?

“Are you a repurposed matre-de from Venice?” Hanzo frowned. On his travels, he had stopped by the famous city to disappear for a while, and had seen these omnics outside any restaurant he was drawn to (the expensive ones).  
“Yes!” Bini’s yellow lights danced, kind of like Genji when he turned on Disco Mode.  
“With 500 weapon settings for unwanted walk-ins?” Hanzo narrowed his eyes.  
“Yes! Other employers thought my bright personality wasn’t enough to compensate for my violent potential.” Bini’s light’s shifted to a depressing blue. “But I can wait, I can clean, I can cook any dish I am programmed to! I can decorate, translate and even sing if you want! And I do not need high wages. I live in the streets!”

Their yellow lights flashed back on again, as if that were a fact to celebrate. Perhaps they were picking up on Hanzo’s internal celebration. What a find.  
“I shall take care of you. Welcome to the shop.”  
“Thank you, thank you!” Bini practically jumped to their feet and bounced up and down.  
“There will be preliminary system checks, but I’m sure you will be fine.” He gestured to a port in his wall, and Bini looked ready to explode (hopefully not literally) with joy.  
“It will be fine! I will get here at 4am and cook enough to fill all those empty shelves! I love you!” Bini did a little twirl, and Hanzo managed a magnanimous smile.  
“Let us get those diagnostics done as soon as possible then.”

This collection of underlings seemed promising.

***

“Kon'nichiwa and welcome to our second Japanese lesson.”  
Toshiro barely gave Sonoda ‘sensei’ a glance as he doodled a bad stickman figure of Hideki being crushed by fridge on his tablet. He’d only taken this class because that smarmy bastard had forced him to sign up ‘to honour his heritage’. Ugh. It wasn’t like Toshiro had ever been to Japan. He didn’t even know if he’d been born there. So why learn the damn language?

“With second lessons, I like to cover some ‘do’s’ and ‘don’t’s’.” Sonoda-sensei licked her lips for a second, as if nervous.  
“Can we learn swear words, miss?” A brown-haired guy who could have been Stock White Guy.png sneered.  
“No. And you will address me as sensei. We shall cover suffixes, so don’t worry.” Sonoda-sensei brought up a slide on their localized school tablets. 

“Now, for the first five minutes, we will just briefly cover Japanese gang slang. You must never use these words, and if you hear _anyone_ use them, you should find help.”  
She glanced at Toshiro for a moment, then cleared her throat. What? He’d been paying attention since she’d said the words ‘gang slang’. Maybe Japanese had been a great idea. The first word highlighted on their screen.  
“So _aniki_ is what mafia members, or Yakuza, as they are called in Japan, call their higher ups. It can also be translated as a rougher version of ‘brother’ though so this one is situational…”

The lesson was pretty good, Toshiro thought, until Sonoda-sensei called him to stay at the end. Great. Single out the new kid. It happened often enough though that he knew just to agree to everything the teacher said, take the sympathetic pat on the back, and forget whatever talk they’d given him as soon as he walked out the room.

“I hope you’re enjoying Japanese, Sierra-Kubo-san.” Sonoda-sensei smiled, and Toshiro did as planned and just nodded. They had all been made to introduce themselves last name then first name, and been told that they would only refer to each other with correct honorifics.  
“I hope that you remember this very important lesson. And remember if you need to talk about anything to anyone…I am always here.” Sonoda-sensei looked like she wanted him to blink twice if he needed a SWAT airlift or something. “I-I mean, as a new student, things may be a little difficult. So do not feel like you’re alone.”

She gave him a smile that looked just a little too tight. The vibe of this whole conversation was a little weird, so Toshiro shot her back a similarly tight smile and nodded.  
“Ookay, I’d better head out to lunch.” He turned around towards the door and with a confused expression to himself, headed out. 

McCree scowled as he scanned the school field, on lunch duty today and till kingdom come. He’d offered to take a slot in every break shift to do his _actual_ job and look after these tykes. And Toshiro should be out of class by now. Hm. Worrisome, but not red alert. Tracking implants said he was still in his Japanese class. If only he could get a better vantage point to see the scope of the school better.

“That might do.” McCree spotted a caretaker’s shed to one side of the sports field. Concealed, good sightlines, and even shaded from the summer sun. Although, as he got closer, the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted past him. What idiots even smoked cigarettes these days? He rolled his eyes at his unintentional self-burn, and strolled over. He was a teacher after all. Gotta do his job.

“Howdy there.” He said with his most steely gaze as he turned the corner. Four delinquents just about climbed the walls in shock.  
“Oh, hey mister, we weren’t – “  
“Smoking?” McCree raised an eyebrow at the lit cigarette in her friend’s hand.  
“I don’t see anything.” The punk tossed it behind him on the ground, and pulled an innocent look. Damn, McCree hated seeing himself in tiny youths.  
“Stamp that out before you start a goldarn fire.” McCree sighed and nodded at the butt. “I ain’t gonna give you detention.”  
“Really?”  
“Unless I see you here again.”  
The kids deflated and glared at him.

“Don’t give me the stink eye now. Smokin’ is all fun an’ cool until some crazy experimental medic sees ya got chest pain and a cough like yer hackin’ up a demon, cuts yer open, removes yer lungs before yer wakin’ eyes t’ teach you a lesson, and squeezes all the tar outta them like a Capri-Sun full of ink.” He watched, with satisfaction, as their expressions journeyed from standoffish to grossed out through the duration of that sentence.  
“That sounds…like kind of a personal story?” The main girl tried. She was right. Angie weren’t to be messed with when she were in a life lesson kinda mood.  
“Smokin’s a horrible habit. Now git.” McCree waved his hand back towards the school. As soon as they left, he lit up a cigar in their nice smoking corner. Hey, Angie had to get her pay’s worth didn’t she now? 

After a few moments, McCree noticed Toshiro exit the building his Japanese class was held in, and also a trio of kids his age makin’ a beeline for the kid. Hm. McCree clipped his cigar and stowed it. Looked like trouble, but even Jack had admitted that bugging the children was a bit too much of a personal space invasion. So, with all the stealth of a cat who had learned to hunt with a collar bell, McCree crept through the trees lining the school fence to have a closer listen. 

“Teacher’s pet already, new kid?” A white kid with brown hair practically ambushed Toshiro coming out the door. Toshiro rolled his eyes, and tried to shove past him and his friends. McCree gave it to him, he had spirit.  
“Where’re you going nerd?” The guy shouldered in front of Toshiro. “Someone’s gotta do my homework, and it’s not gonna be me.”

Kids actually did that? McCree had only seen that in movies. Though, he hadn’t actually been to a proper school, so who was he to make assumptions?  
“I charge $25 an hour, 15% extra on weekends, five dollar discount if you buy me study snacks.” Toshiro rattled off. McCree’s eyebrows shot up. Had Hanzo been giving secret lessons to this kid? Because he swore that if Hanzo hadn’t been able to defeat five men with a single pinky by age sixteen, he would have said the exact same thing.  
The group just chortled.

“Like I’d pay you money. The only reward you get is an unbroken nose.”  
“With those tiny, sweaty hands? Even if you managed to hit me with them, they’d slide right off.” Toshiro appraised the bully’s hands with an almost Shimada-level judgemental eye.

The guy clenched up and his eyes narrowed, sore spot obviously hit, as McCree tried not to choke with glee in the bushes. But that kid did not know how to stop while he was ahead.  
“You and your pack of stringy idiots don’t scare me. You want some chump to do your homework so that you can be toxic ragequitters on StarCraft every night? Well if you don’t pay me, I don’t do it. If you kick my ass, I still won’t do it. Cache 22 losers, deal or no deal?” Toshiro crossed his arms, and McCree thought that maybe this was what it felt like t’ be a proud father. Stepping in might have to happen if this escalated, but McCree wouldn’t like to. Firstly, if Toshiro could learn to handle his own problems, then that was the best case solution. Second of all, he weren’t sure how to explain himself if he leapt out of the bushes like Gabe making a dramatic dinner party entrance.

“No deal, tiny. I got other nerds. But I’ll have fun kicking your ass anyway.” The brown haired kid cracked his knuckles, and McCree rolled his eyes. Top dog idiots were hard to barter with. McCree had just whisked together some bull about collecting litter when Kimba and her new friends entered stage left.  
“Shiro! There you are!” Kimba tugged on Toshiro’s arm. “We need an extra player for Lucioball, and I know moving fast isn’t cool, but we need another defense!”  
“Later dweebs.” Toshiro flipped them off as he was dragged away, but while everyone’s attention was on the scene, McCree slipped out of the hedge. _From the SHADOWS_ Gabe cackled in his head, but he swatted the emo weirdo away.

“So bullyin’s your neck of the woods, huh?” McCree drawled behind the three boys before they could even start after Toshiro. They whipped around, then tried to look neutral.  
“Just making friends, mister. He’s new after all.” The tall, even stringy (Toshiro’s words), one on the left shot McCree the fakest smile.  
“Yeah. Wouldn’t want him hanging out with a 8th grader for the rest of highschool.” The brown-haired one served him another steaming plate o’ lies. McCree just stepped a slow pace closer.  
“I’ll be watching you.” He looked the kid dead in the eyes.  
“Don’t bother unless you want to see lots of friendship.” The baby-faced bully smiled, and McCree just crossed his arms as they turned to leave. He stared at their backs until they made it to some steps to sit and eat on, and they only looked back once.

“He’s still watching us.” Trevor muttered. Mason looked over his shoulder, and a chill ran down his spine in the hot summer day. At the edge of the school field the teacher still stood in the position they’d left him in, but he seemed like a shadow. A pitch black shadow stark against the sunlit field. Then Trevor sat down, the cowboy teacher moved, and he was normal again. Mason blinked, then squinted. Had he just been imagining things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna guess what the 'surprise' Hanzo has ordered for the children are? :P  
> I will try update next week but it's gonna be real busy so we'll see :/
> 
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think! ^.^b
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	12. The History of Japan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  it's been a while, but it's my bday so

“How was your day?” Marcos asked with minimal enthusiasm as Toshiro slumped into the very back of the minivan, followed by a far more energetic Kimba.  
“It was good!” Kimba seemed to be taking to their new school much more than usual. Toshiro had no idea why. When these two crazy men got sick of them, or the Powers that Be made a decision, they’d be off to another place before they could say ‘yeehaw’.

“Music’s really fun, and Yazhu, Helga and Dominic are really cool – Toshiro even played Lucioball with us today!” Kimba seemed to be forgetting her place. They didn’t get _friendly_ with their foster parents.  
“Oh really? Nice t’ see you getting’ social.” Marcos commented and started the hover van, as Toshiro glowered.  
“What?” Kimba poked him, and he swatted her hand away. “It’s not like I’m giving up a state secret or anything.”  
“Yeah, and that’s why you don’t know any state secrets.” He jibed back, and slid his new phone out his pocket, because some things Marcos just didn’t have to hear.

To: Kimba

Toshiro: We should get them back for last night.

Kimba glanced at him, and chewed her lip.

Kimba: I suppose so. 

Toshiro: Can’t let them think they have the upper hand

Kimba: Hmm, what should we do?

Toshiro: go home, stay in our rooms and order pizza for dinner. They can deliver to windows by drones. Show them that we don’t need them.

Kimba: They’re not too bad shiro

Toshiro: they barely like us let alone respect us. Why should we respect them?

Kimba: ugh fine. Race you to the top of the stairs

McCree sighed as the pair ran in again. So much for Hanzo’s lessons. Then again, when McCree strode into the kitchen, he kind of forgot about caring. There was the asshole himself, in a pale grey workout hoodie unzipped to reveal an indecent amount of sweat-slick cleavage, drinking a power shake at the kitchen island like some kind of slutty fitness advertisement.

“Hideki. Who’s runnin’ yer café?” McCree glared. Who wore a hoodie without a shirt underneath? How did Hanzo make generic workout clothing look so obscene? Why did McCree have to be attracted to a man who owned a luxury Mercedes?

“I thought you would be happy to see me home. And I’m testing one of my new employees. If the place is still upright by closing, I will promote her to manager. Of course, I am watching.” Hanzo tapped his phone, then gestured at the sushi McCree had not noticed up until this point (lost in Hanzo’s cleavage). “There was some left over and it does not last. Help yourself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, McCree saw Kimba pause on her desperate dash to dive into her room and eye it hungrily, but Toshiro just urged her in the back. Them kids were up to somethin’ but he weren’t sure what.  
“So much for yer manners schoolin’.” McCree picked up a roll, and eyed the staircase.  
“Oh, do you think so?” Hanzo leaned across the counter to shoot an innocent look at the stairs, while making McCree even more enraged by the fact that Hanzo’s workout musk had him distracted like a stag in spring.

The bastard held up three fingers and began to silently count down. McCree’s frown just deepened. Two…One…  
“What the hell?!” Toshiro’s yell came from upstairs.  
“And there it is.” Hanzo commented mildly and plucked a banana out of the fruit bowl. McCree swore to the desert cacti, that if Hanzo started eatin’ it like a whore, he was going to tip a bottle of water on this menace and himself for good measure.

“What did you do to our doors?” Toshiro blazed downstairs like a bat outta hell. McCree side eyed Hanzo. What had this conniving, yet unfortunately hot son-of-a-bitch done?  
“Did you try the pulley?” Hanzo suggested. Had this crazy polecat _booby trapped_ their doors?  
“The pulley with ‘Pull Me’ written on a large white arrow beside it? Yes I tried the pulley!” Toshiro growled, and stormed up to the kitchen island. Kimba followed in tow, with a sulky pout. A thought just hit McCree. Vultures above, what if one of em started to cry?  
“Hm. Looks like you both need to do more pushups before dinner.” Hanzo calmly took a bite of his banana, and McCree raised his eyebrows. What in the tarnation…  
_“What??”_ Toshiro was obviously in the same frame of mind.  
“It’s weighted.” Hanzo shrugged. “When you can lift it, you can hole yourselves up as much as you like. Marcos and I can open your doors easily when necessary, and they open without effort from the inside.”

Toshiro gaped for a second. McCree smothered his pleased incredulity with a gloved hand because if he didn’t, the kid might become so enraged that he spontaneously combusted.  
“You asshole.” Toshiro finally spat out. Hanzo just took a last swig of his power shake, put it aside, then braced both hands on the countertop.  
“Takes one,” Hanzo’s voice dropped to a downright threat, and he leaned down closer to Toshiro like a hungry dragon. “to know one.”

McCree was maybe, just maybe, warming up to the man.  
“Now follow me.” Hanzo marched past, face like stone.  
On top of everything, McCree had the chills. What a confusing, infuriating, yet entertaining evening. Toshiro rolled his eyes with a mutinous expression, but followed Hanzo anyway. McCree didn’t blame him.

“I wanted to play harmonica…” Kimba said in a small voice as the two Japanese rageclouds stalked off into the dining room.  
“Harmonica, hm?” McCree raised an eyebrow. He’d wondered what instrument she’d got into Music with. Kimba just nodded with wide eyes, and now that it were just him an’ her alone, she looked a little intimidated. So McCree willed himself to soften his post-Hanzo tensed shoulders and glare, and try to loom a little less.  
“I used t’ play back in the day, before…” He held up his metal arm. “Can’t get the wavers right no more with this. But it’s great for pickin’ guitar. How ‘bout I grab mine from the van, and we play somethin’ on the deck?”  
A wide, buck-toothed smile replaced Kimba’s big eyes and huddled posture, and McCree thought that he might be able to get this parenting thing right for once.

Toshiro, on the other hand, could not have smiled less.  
Despite being a gold-digging hoe, Hideki could be very intimidating sometimes. But Toshiro had nothing else to do now, so he may as well see if he could bait Hideki into kicking his ass and thus get him arrested or something.  
“What are you gonna do? Teach me to blow a – “  
_“Hyah!”_ Hideki yanked a string so fast that Toshiro couldn’t even finish.  
“Ahh!” Toshiro jumped as a giant sign labelled JAPAN, the Japanese flag, a map of Japan, and several noticeboards (some of which looked like ancient texts of some sort) dropped over the walls and door.

“How long have those been there?!” Toshiro backed up and almost tripped over a tea set that had seemingly appeared from the floor.  
“Since we moved in.” Hideki appraised him casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have the history of Japan fall out of your walls. “No son of mine will be disconnected from his heritage.”  
“You know what, I’m good…” Toshiro backed up to where he thought the door might be behind some giant tapestry of a woman shooting sunbeams out of her, but was cut off as Hideki barked something possibly angry in Japanese, and circled behind him.

“Sit. At the _chabudai_.” Hideki practically growled in his ear, and Toshiro could feel himself sweating. What the heck was this?  
“Is that some kind of tea?” He side-eyed the menace he had for an adopted father.  
“The table. But don’t worry,” Hideki narrowed his eyes and his voice became, if possible, even more threatening. “We’ll get to the tea later.”

Toshiro had been through many parents. He could backchat till the cows came home, he could prank, ignore, and even kick some parents in the shins. But Toshiro had no idea what this even was. Had he been trapped in some kind of historical Japanese panic room with a mad, patriotic prostitute?

“Ookay.” Toshiro figured that the only way to survive(?) was to go along, so he sat down on a cushion beside the chai-thing. “Did you take your meds today, or did you just not sleep with enough rich people, because the crazy’s slipping through more than usual.”  
“It seems I will have to give you lessons on effective insults also.” Hideki raised two, perfectly plucked, judgemental eyebrows, and earned a glare.  
“You have to know the topic to teach it.” He happily retorted.  
“You see, I am improving you already.” Hideki then made a noise of disapproval, and strode up to him while Toshiro tried to figure out if that was a compliment or not.

“Kneel.” Hideki just tapped him with a bamboo switch he’d presumably pulled out of his ass until Toshiro shuffled onto his knees with a scowl. “Good. We will start today with the creation myths, and work through customs and traditional attire. Later, we will cover geography, historical events, and religions. We will finish in the socio-political environment of modern Japanese politics, with extensive focus on business, social hierarchy, and networking.”

“Do we get snacks?”  
“The only ‘snacks’ you will get, are the ones you traditionally craft with your own two hands.” Hideki snapped his bamboo switch at a cabinet of ingredients, then pointed at another tapestry. “Let us begin.”  
As he rolled his eyes, Toshiro wondered how realistically he’d have to fake his own death to get out of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> hanzo is trying to be a parent, but at what cost. Also, teenage rebellion is ordering pizza by drone. Sorry for the wait, but i finally don't have to work 12-14hr days anymore ^.^b
> 
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think! :3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	13. Floridian Trainwreck

The café had survived closing without him, and by Hanzo’s projected numbers, was going to make the cost of its renovation back in no time. Miss Jeong was doing excellent work and seemed like a swimmer rather than a sinker, so he promoted her to manager. Bini - well, Hanzo had never seen a happier robot. True, they had been programmed to be positive, but as they cooked, they sang, they complimented the staff, offered samples and to make personal favourites, and generally went above and beyond in every way. Not to mention ZEEP seemed a little besotted with the Venice matre-de. The first day, Bini had given the battered-up omnic a hug, and now, it seemed, ZEEP had gotten addicted to them. Oh well. What was a business without some workplace romance? 

Hanzo smirked as he sipped an excellent ginseng tea from the ‘adult’ side of the café. He had split the L shaped space into to unofficial halves with a jasmine-covered lattice between them – one area where the parents could mingle, and one area where the children did not even have to look at their ‘uncool’ elders. Seemed to work a charm so far.

“Oh Hideki!” Sandra, head of the PTA rushed towards him, face flushed with a ruddy smile. “This place is wonderful! I’ve always wanted somewhere to pop into for a quick snack while I’m waiting for the kids to finish.”  
“You are most welcome.” Hanzo pulled out a seat for her beside him, and she giggled as her blush heightened.  
“Oh you are a gentleman!” She plopped down into the seat at some tables he had moved together, followed by a happy gaggle of parents (sans Linda) and his favourite PTA member.

“Sonoda-chan. So glad you could make it.” He shot her a positively draconian smile and gestured at the seat opposite him.  
“Actually it was Hattie who recommended this place!” Sandra beamed, and clapped her hands together. Hanzo did his best to look mildly surprised. “Although you should have messaged us or something – or did she ruin your surprise?”  
Sandra waggled a finger at Sonoda, who shot her an endearing, if slightly strained smile.  
“Oh no, I couldn’t shamelessly self-promote like that.” Hanzo added a magnanimous smile to the collection. “I would rather be known for a good reputation than as a man who uses his friends to forward himself.”  
“Well this place has an excellent atmosphere. If the food’s as good as it looks, I’ll give you a great review!” Dave the English teacher chimed in, and the other parents nodded. Perfect.

“Hello everyone!” Bini burst into the conversation like a positive firecracker. “I am your waiter today! If you need me just press the button in the centre of the table, and I will with you pronto! Today’s savoury special is salmon sashimi with ginger and citrus infused sesame oil. The sweet special of today is America’s own golden-crusted apple pie!”  
“No charge for these guests today. They are friends of mine.” Or investments of mine, Hanzo thought. Let them try the most expensive dishes, so that they would come back and buy them.  
“Friends of the owner!” Bini just about had a conniption. “I will remember you all as VIP guests!”

All the present members gave their orders, and as Bini bounced away, Hanzo turned back to his new best friends.  
“Oh Hideki, are you sure about it being free? I couldn’t accept free food from you, you’ve just started up!” Sandra put a hand on her plump chest and squeezed his shoulder. He willed very hard for his dragons not to electrocute her, as was custom for unwanted space invasion.  
“If it distresses you, then perhaps you could allow me one thing.” Hanzo watched Sonoda-chan stiffen up in his peripheral vison as he laid on the charm of his handsome face _thickly_. “That old coffee machine and zip back in the office. Let me replace it.”  
He said, just loud enough for everyone at the table to overhear.

“What? But that would mean you spending more on us!” Sandra looked all flustered but pleased at the same time.  
“Seeing my colleagues happy is the best gift you could give me.” Hanzo managed out. The holier-than-thou niceness might have choked him on the way up if he wasn’t scheming the bigger picture. “And I am sure it would make everyone happy?”  
Chimes of agreement came from the table, and a very enthusiastic Sonoda-chan. Good. She had proved a very good investment herself.

“ _ANIKI! Aniki_ [where are you]?” Someone very familiar called in loud Japanese.  
Sonoda-chan practically spat out her coffee. Genji. Was going to die. Again. Through the lattice, he could just make out his brother’s shininess in the children’s section. Where he belonged.  
“Excuse me, I must attend this.” Hanzo abandoned his tea with a gracious smile.  
“Well of course! You’re running the business, so go run it!” Sandra chortled, and Hanzo did his best not to march across his café like an oncoming storm.

“Gengyo.” Hanzo shot a disapproving look at his ‘cousin’ and Zenyatta, who had let this happen. It didn’t help that ‘Gengyo’ looked ridiculous. To solve the cyborg’s public nudity problem, Morrison had apparently equipped Genji with what appeared to be his own wardrobe; a baggy pink floral shirt, a blue drawstring sunhat with FLORIDA written on it and beige three quarter length shorts. What a disaster.

“[I told you, it’s Goku!]” Genji hissed.  
“[Your cover name is not _Goku_ , you otaku!]” Hanzo whispered back harshly and jabbed at his chest.  
“[Can my nickname be Goku?]” Genji put his hands together, and an animation of anime tears popped up on his green eye display.  
“[Even if it is, I am _not_ calling you Goku!]” Hanzo insisted, and gestured at a table in an attempt to get them all out of the way of customers and staff.  
“[It’s ok, Goku.]” Zenyatta patted Genji on the head as he floated towards a seat, and Genji made hearts pop up on his eyes. Ugh, they were so made for each other.

“[Enough being gross. If you want to stay, order something.]” Hanzo gestured at the bubble tea menu. “[And don’t call me _Aniki_ again in public. Some people might understand.]”  
“[Tsundere.]” Genji poked Hanzo’s hand. “[But bubble tea! Yes! Discount for family?]”  
“[No.]” Hanzo turned around and caught Miss Jeong’s attention. “Charge this man double.”  
“What?” Genji yelped.  
“O-okay.” Miss Jeong shot him a perturbed look, but continued.  
“He’s family.” Hanzo flicked his eyes up and down Genji’s outfit. “Just.”  
“Oh. Fair enough.” See, this was why she had got the job.

“So, how is the temple?” Hanzo asked with smug politeness as a mutinous Genji went to order.  
“Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. How are the children?” Zenyatta’s politeness also seemed a little underhanded, but Hanzo never quite liked to lump his criminal paranoia in with the Shambali monk.  
“Trouble. Loud. Annoying. And here to say hello.” Hanzo sighed, and gestured to the doors, which McCree had flung open as if he were entering a Wild West saloon. However, this was civilization, and nobody stopped their conversation or tried to duel him. Kimba followed him with a look Hanzo did not want to think of as admiration, while Toshiro trailed behind with a healthy scowl.

“Over here, Marcos.” Hanzo waved them to the luckily large table he had situated them at. “This is – “  
“Oh, Hideki, _cousin_ , who is this tall, handsome cowboy?” Genji popped up behind Hanzo’s chair so suddenly that Hanzo almost stabbed him with a fork. “And these two adorable little angels?”  
“Aw that’s nice. He called us angels.” Toshiro with very fake happiness.  
“Satan was an angel, if I remember the myths rightly. Now sit.” Hanzo gestured at all of them, and Toshiro pulled out his chair slowly for maximum noise.

“I couldn’t get between you and your sweetums.” Genji patted Hanzo on the shoulder, jumped as he was zapped, then scootched past to get to a free seat beside Zenyatta.  
“Marcos, Kimba, Toshiro, this is – “  
“Gengyo, but you can call me Goku!” Genji thrust a hand out and avidly shook all their hands.  
“Do not call him Goku.” Hanzo glared.  
“Hello Goku.” Toshiro immediately said, and Genji, the little shit, clapped him on the back.  
“I like this one!”

Toshiro, for once in his life, looked pleased. See this was why Genji had been a clan threat. He was just too damn likeable.  
“Now tell me all about your dads.” Genji continued, and Hanzo really couldn’t stop him. “Have they been going for dinner dates? Movies? Romantic walks on the beach?”  
“No, but we did see them having hate sex against the front door.” Kimba also seemed to want to be part of Genji’s cool group.  
“Kimba!” Both Hanzo and McCree barked, as Genji braced his hands on the table, tensed with shock and probably glee.

“Nani?? [Hideki. You didn’t tell me - !]”  
“[It was a fight, Gengyo.]” Hanzo rolled his eyes.  
“[Like a sexy wrestling fight or – wait did you try to kill each other? Seriously, I have money on this.]” Of course he would.  
“[No to both.]” Hanzo said firmly, and switched back to English. “And this, before my cousin so rudely interrupted with his inappropriate questions, is Zayarvar. He is a Shambali monk, so please show him some respect.”

“How are you…” Toshiro made a mixing motion with his finger. “Like, tied in?”  
“Goku here is my student.” Zenyatta gave Genji’s shoulder a gentle pat, and both children almost seemed a little humbled at the sound of the monk’s voice. It was true. Zenyatta’s voice was like electronic molasses poured into a hand-crafted, wooden teacup floating in a lake beside a cherry blossom orchard. Hanzo had often wondered if he had binaural beats going on in there somewhere, because his voice was almost _too_ calming.

“I teach him to see beauty and tranquillity in himself, others, and the world around him. For example, what most delights you about you cousin’s new café?” Zenyatta steepled his fingers, and Hanzo raised his eyebrows.  
“This beautiful cowboy man right here.” Genji finger gunned McCree, whose expression didn’t change, but he tipped his hat. “Yes!! I got a hat tip!”

As Zenyatta and the children laughed, Hanzo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. A curdle of something worked in his gut. Was this…no. He couldn’t be. Jealous? Get a hold of yourself, Hanzo, he thought, as ZEEP came over to collect their orders.

“Hey, I was thinking: I want to get to know my cousin’s fam a little better, and we’ve all had a stressful week – “  
“You have spent three days face-sleeping in a temple, Gengyo.” Hanzo interrupted sardonically.  
“Actually, he offered to clean the temple complex for us.” Zenyatta cast a fond look a Genji, who leaned his head, still complete with the FLORIDA sunhat, on his shoulder. “All the monks have taken to him very fondly.”  
“Who is this man, and what have you done with my cousin.” Hanzo remarked, before he had time to closely analyse what Zenyatta had said in comparison to Genji’s character. Oh dear. Just how many monks had his brother – 

“Anyway, how about a game night! I have cards, Monopoly, Twister…” Genji listed off.  
“Y’ had me at cards.” McCree said with more enthusiasm than Hanzo had ever seen. Hanzo did not know about the lifelong card ban McCree had at Overwatch, but he was soon to discover its rationale.  
“I could do Monopoly.” Hanzo agreed. “[Oh, and on the topic of business, Gengyo, I need your advice. I am considering turning the place next door into an arcade. You are fairly knowledgeable in that area.]”  
“[What do I get?]”

Hanzo had almost forgotten that Genji too was a Shimada.  
“[I can pay you for the hours you work of course.]” Hanzo offered. He was a businessman, but a fair one.  
“[And free bubble tea.]” Genji leaned forward, in all seriousness.  
“[Half price].” Hanzo leaned forward as well, and narrowed his eyes.  
“[Done deal!]” Genji held out his hand, and Hanzo shook on it. Damn, he should have started at a 10% discount.  
“Did you just make a deal with Hideki?” McCree commented mildly. “I thought ya liked yer soul in yer body.”  
“What is he gonna do? Suck it out?” Toshiro muttered, and Genji looked shocked but unfortunately delighted, and exploded into laughter.

“Now, now, I’m his cousin.” Genji waggled a finger at Hanzo’s delinquent when he had calmed down.  
“Yeah, but you’re from Florida.” Toshiro pointed at Genji’s hat as ZEEP came over with their orders.  
“Touché. Tooouché.” Genji nodded, and Hanzo decided to put a stop to this weirdness before it got any further.  
“Pull yourself together, Toshiro. You think I would go near this disaster?” He gestured at Genji’s shirt and shorts ensemble, and pulled a face at the puka shell necklace he had just noticed. 

“But you go for Marcos?” Genji innocently suggested, then slurped some tea into his facemask and choked slightly on a boba pearl.  
“At least he has a consistent theme that isn’t ‘Floridian Trainwreck’.” Hanzo shot back.  
“Wow, did you just almost give Marcos a compliment?” Kimba abandoned her sushi sandwich to gasp, and Hanzo did his best to look absolutely neutral.  
“Hey now, if we pick on Hideki for bein’ nice, he won’t do it again.” McCree’s expression, as usual, was unreadable.  
“Indeed.” Zenyatta hummed happily, as Hanzo rolled his eyes. Great. Now he was picking up Toshiro’s bad habits. “I cannot wait to get to know you all better this evening.”

Honestly, that was a fair statement even without their cover. Apart from Genji, Hanzo didn’t really know any of them beyond a superficial level. In fact, he had tried to avoid it. But perhaps it would not be that bad. Hanzo hoped it would not turn out as cutthroat as Shimada Family Mah-jong night, but he really should have known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by Choking on Bubble Tea  
> i think @ya-pendragon captured Hanzo's soul in this fic in [THIS ART](https://ya-pendragon.tumblr.com/post/188285218334/first-post-yay-i-am-still-not-sure-how-this) they did (awesome work!)  
> im pretty sure hanzo's out of my control at this point but now the gang's all here they might help or make things WORSE
> 
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think! :3 I love hearin what you have to say!
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	14. Family Games Night with the Gang (members)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched 3 hrs of poker tournaments for this

“So I borrowed this from a British friend of mine, so it’s got the British places, sorry.” Genji hauled a battered game of Monopoly on to the table. To McCree, it looked as though one edge had been singed, the box had nail marks on it that a horror movie might be proud of, what looked like a bite mark, and several tear stains.  
“And when I said borrowed I mean she begged it to take it away from her family before it tore itself apart.” Genji announced happily and unboxed it.

“I do sense a great deal of discord around this game.” Zenyatta picked up a tiny silver hat and looked at it. “Perhaps we should work in teams with so many players.”  
“Great idea! I bags Zayarvar!” Genji wrapped his arms around the monk, and squeezed a little bit. “Please put that little silver hat on, it would make my life.”

“Can I go with you?” Kimba piped up at McCree, and gave both him and Toshiro a shock.  
“Don’t see why not.” McCree leaned back in his chair as Zenyatta balanced the hat on his head and Genji snapped a picture. He hoped Genji forwarded it. That was the darn most adorable thing ever.  
“It’s you and me then, asshole.” Toshiro crossed his arms, and glared at Hanzo beside him.  
“It appears so, bitchboy.” Hanzo replied, but neither of them seemed too venomous with their insults. McCree didn’t know quite what had happened between them the other day, but the exchange came closer to competitive than vindictive.

“Hideki’s banker.” Genji immediately thrust the fake money at Hanzo. “Do the maths and give us $1500 each divided into 500s, 100s, 50s, 20s, 10s, 5s, and 1s.”  
“It is not that hard.” Hanzo shot Genji a perturbed look, and started to flick notes into piles.  
“You are literally the only person who thinks that.” Genji slapped his pile and dragged it towards him.  
“Countin’ money ain’t all that bad, Goku.” McCree chewed a cigar that he was not allowed to light, and earned a mildly surprised look from Hanzo. “What? I did my stint as an…’accountant’ once.”

Well, counting bettings and winnings as a hustler, as fresh meat countin’ up Deadlock’s blood money, and countin’ body pickings… but he couldn’t say that in front of civilians.  
“Oh, so you’re both losers.” Genji shrugged and earned a laugh from Toshiro.  
“We shall soon see,” Hanzo stopped to pointedly stare at Genji and Zenyatta, “who the losers are.”  
“I’m just happy if we all have fun.” Zenyatta announced cheerily, although as casual as Genji looked, McCree could see a storm a-brewin’.

After the kids had got into all but a slap fight over which piece they wanted each, Genji picked up the board box to examine the starting rules.  
“Someone carved out the actual starting rules with what I think looks like a straight razor and scratched in ‘the weakest link should start.’ Take it away Marcos.” Genji held out the dice, and McCree raised his eyebrows, and side eyed Hanzo, who shrugged.  
“Or Toshiro-chan is right here.” Hanzo pointed to his left without looking.  
“Try me you glorified go-go dancer.” Toshiro smacked Hanzo’s hand away, but before those two could throttle each other, McCree took the dice.

“I ain’t complainin’ to starting. Here. Blow on em.” McCree offered the dice to Kimba. “It’s for luck y’see.”  
“Ok!” Kimba looked all too excited, and blew on the dice. McCree gave em a toss, and his lip pulled up.  
“Luck be a lady.” He drawled as he landed on King’s Cross station, bought it, then handed the dice to Zenyatta.

The rest went as well as a game of Monopoly could between two business moguls, two overly competitive children, a monk just trying to have fun, and an inexplicably canny cowboy. An hour in, the two Shimadas were already slapping each other in the face with wads of fake cash at every opportunity. Hanzo and Toshiro actually made a fearsome tag team, with Hanzo even leaning over to whisper deals or investment advice to the kid that was supposed to hate him, and they had consumed almost half the board between them. Genji put up a clever resistance trying to block his brother’s hold in as many areas as possible, whereas McCree just kept rolling well, and rolling doubles. The Shimada teams had barely got a pretty penny from him all game.

“I swear Marcos, if you land on Hanzo’s square, I will kill you.” Genji jabbed at the table. “Give me the money! You have so much!”  
“Not as much as us. And the probability of him landing on our property is much higher.” Hanzo crossed his arms, and shot McCree a smug look.  
“Well, Kimba if you would.” McCree held out the dice to his adopted daughter, as he had been all game (and he’d done the same for her for good measure), who blew with excited gusto.

“Well look at that.” McCree smirked at he rolled a twelve. “ I miss both o’ yer, pass Go for 200, land on a chance and get another turn.”  
“That was a 2% probability. You are cheating.” Hanzo said flatly, over Genji’s ‘how??’.  
“Ain’t no cheatin’ here.” McCree offered him the dice with an innocent look. Hanzo swiped them, and rolled a seven. Then a three. Then an eight.  
“Roll.” Hanzo passed him the dice, and fixed a hard, intense gaze on him. McCree thought he looked so concentrated that the man might see lady luck swoop down from the metaphorical plane.  
“Oh look. A three. Just safely visitin’ Jail I guess.” McCree raised a smug eyebrow, as Hanzo narrowed his eyes. There was a moment of pause.

“Well, either give him a frisk, or move on, don’t just sit there eye banging. Marcos, come here. Give me some luck.” Genji grabbed his hand and put it underneath his own hand, then rolled the dice.  
“Oof, _super_ Tax?” McCree tutted as Kimba cackled.  
“He cursed me! Did you see that? I’m rolling again.”  
“Hey!” Kimba protested.  
“I was cursed, it’s unfair!”  
“Perhaps the delight of this game has worn off a little. May I suggest another?” Zenyatta offered, and his peaceful intonations settled everyone a little.  
“If the game ends now, we win. So certainly.” Hanzo offered Toshiro a hi-five, but when Toshiro went to hit it, both of them turned their hands and flipped each other off.  
“Whoa, you two are twinning and I’m scared.” Genji nonchalantly picked his piece off the board, and flicked it into the box. “So, cards?”

Hanzo had never played poker before. It simply had not crossed his path, and he had avoided Overwatch games night in favour of drinking alone while watching _Crime Time: Worst, Best and Mysterious_ and giving the criminals constructive criticism.  
“Alright, who knows Texas Hold ’em?” McCree queried, and reached for Genji’s stack of cards. Genji slapped his hand away.

“No. You do not touch the cards, you do not shuffle the cards, you do not deal the cards. See this?” Genji gestured at the card back, which featured Zenyatta sitting under a blossom tree. “They’re custom made, so no swapsies. Hands on the table at all times. Hideki? Frisk him.”  
“No.”  
“Fine. I would do it, but I am not taking my eyes off these cards for a second!” Genji jabbed a finger in McCree’s direction, and the cowboy’s eyes practically danced above his mild smile. Hanzo did not think he had seen McCree smile before tonight. It was certainly…more agreeable than his frown. His face seemed softer. His mouth seemed softer. Like, _objectively_ , if one was speaking _objectively_. Hanzo buried himself in denial as usual and carried on.

“Now who’s played?” Genji raised a hand. Everyone but Hanzo raised a hand.  
“Have you been teaching these kids poker already?” Genji put his hands on his hips, as if himself teaching a Shambali monk was not equally questionable.  
“It’s called online poker.” Toshiro rolled his eyes.  
“Not with real money though! Our…real money.” Kimba added with a little guilty look, and Toshiro elbowed her. Hanzo made a mental note to keep a good eye on his wallet. McCree just tutted and shook his head.

“Goku, you better side with them. I’ll take my husband.” McCree pulled out the chair beside him, so what else could Hanzo do but get up to join him.  
“Ayyy, you better!” Genji finger gunned McCree.  
“Hey now.” The big man’s low, teasing voice was so unexpected that Hanzo almost tripped over Genji’s chair leg. Thank the dragons for his superior dexterity, because if he had, he may have had to vanish into the night never to return. 

As Hanzo took his place beside McCree, every sense seemed hyper aware, and he tugged at his shirt cuff unsure of what to do with himself. No. He was _not_ getting flustered over PornBelt McCree over there. Hanzo straightened up, and look down his nose at the rest of the table. Regal as a dragon. Calm as a lake.  
“Well go on Goku. Deal the cards.”  
Hanzo did not trust at all the glint in McCree’s eyes, but dragons be damned if seeing McCree with a hunger wasn’t a thrill.

“See that’s a great hand.” McCree gestured at Hanzo’s cards after a round of going over the basics, and the second round flop of a clubs ace, a diamond seven, and a spades three. It seemed like a watered-down version of mah-jong, to be honest, but the system and winning patterns would take a while to learn. 

Hanzo peered at his club five and a diamond jack. It was a terrible hand. Then Hanzo caught McCree’s ghost of a wink, on the left side where even eagle-eyed robot Genji could not see.  
“So the ‘ones’ are high or low?“ Hanzo clicked, and pretended to frown in confusion.  
“Now don’t give it away.” McCree jumped in, but pointed up with his metal hand.  
“Oh come on, that is the biggest bluff I have ever heard.” Genji, flanked by the children, tossed his head in a way that suggested a huge roll of his eyes. “No way does Hideki have aces. I can read you like a book, McCree.”  
“Well let’s hope you don’t read em and weep.” McCree smirked, and flipped a chip through his fingers.

“Betting, if you will.” Zenyatta gestured to Toshiro on his left, as McCree had paid the big blind, and Hanzo had paid the blind. Zenyatta had opted to be dealer due to Genji’s desire to have efficient omnic power watching the cards at all times, and the monk was apparently notorious for just giving his chips to other players.

“Hm.” Toshiro glanced at the other two. They were not looking at each other’s hands, since they all knew the game, but Genji had instructed them with the singular goal of taking out McCree. The boy tossed in blues.  
“30 to call, sixty minimum to raise.” Zenyatta neatly stacked the three chips. Both Genji and Kimba threw in chips to call (match Toshiro’s bet). 

McCree’s hand dangled over two stacks of chips, dropping them so that they slotted together into one stack, then separating them again. It was a little mesmerizing, and the dragons in Hanzo felt themselves drifting off into a chip-induced fever dream, but Hanzo the human kept his cool. After a tense moment, the cowboy simply called as well. McCree was relying on him to make the bluff. So Hanzo threw in the call plus the lowest raise.

“Hideki raised by 30, sixty to re-raise, thirty to call.” Zenyatta seemed to be throwing lingo around almost as much as McCree. What had Genji downloaded in there?  
The others glanced at each other, then called it. 

Zenyatta slid one card off the top and stacked it facedown (called ‘a burn card’, according to Genji, to prevent cheating), then flipped the next card into the Turn. The ace of diamonds. McCree shot Hanzo’s hand (that they were pretending was good) a low-lidded, appreciative look that made him feel a little too warm. No. McCree probably had some sort of poker kink. Throwing a Royal Flush at him in the bedroom would probably make him bust a nut. Now Hanzo had that in his head. Why had he gone there??

“I…fold.” Toshiro pushed his cards away with a huff as Hanzo clenched his fist repeatedly under the table to repress a blush.  
“Oh, come on no way does Hideki have aces!” Genji squared his shoulders and pushed in more chips.  
“Twenty to call.” Zenyatta hummed happily, which Kimba did.  
“I fold.” McCree shrugged and slid his cards over to Zenyatta as well.

“ _Kuso_ , maybe Hideki does…hm.” Genji muttered and played with the two cards in his hand.  
Hanzo shrugged at his hand and raised by fourty. He was in it to the end now.  
“I’m out.” Kimba sighed, but Genji pushed her cards back as she put them down.  
“Seriously? One of us _has_ to have a better hand than whatever is going on over there. Stay in, stay in, I’ll bet for you.” Genji tossed in more chips, and Hanzo chanced a look at McCree. He did not seem phased that Genji wanted to stick to the end no matter what. But Hanzo really did have a bad hand. So what was he playing at?

“To the River then.” McCree turned to Zenyatta, and that was when Hanzo felt a tap on his thigh. He pretended to yawn for a moment while Zenyatta burned the top two cards, and was lucky that his father had unwittingly taught Hanzo a face perfect for poker from age three: McCree had crossed his right leg so his foot rested against Hanzo, but somewhere along the line, he had taken off his socks without his hands leaving the table. The ace of hearts and the ace of spades sat between his bare toes. How in the… 

Oh well. Questions later. The destruction of Genji first. Hanzo failed to see the slight historical pattern in his life, and took the cards with the hand he’d been deterring his blush with under the table. 

Genji stared at the new seven of diamonds in the River, then at Hanzo. Hanzo raised an eyebrow at his brother, unsure of how to swap his hands, when McCree suddenly made scrutinizing expression at the River, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. _Right_ over with his arm raised to Hanzo’s ear, so that his elbow and shoulder blocked half of Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo had to slap his cards against his titty to stop them being smacked out of his hand.

“Yeah, that’s right, nice and easy.” McCree whispered so close to Hanzo’s ear that his spine shivered with tingles as he shifted the hand with aces in it up. It didn’t help that out of context, that sounded like nothing to do with cards. “Now tuck the other ones in my pocket there you go.”  
“Whispering him hints won’t save you!” Genji tossed in a 100 piece as Hanzo tried not to feel like a client tucking bills into a stripper’s bra. “Call that if you dare.”  
“I can handle this.” Hanzo scowled as soon as he’d got rid of his first hand, and pushed McCree away with a firm finger. Lingering too long would cause suspicion. And besides, he needed to focus. “Personal space, husband.”

“Their pet names are so cute aren’t they?” Kimba remarked, and called Genji’s bet.  
“Yeah, well their nicknames are soon going to be Bluffing Loser One, and Bluffing Loser Two.” Genji happily drummed his fingertips on the table.  
“I like that.” Toshiro chimed in. “Can I just shorten it to Loser One and Loser Two?”  
“Yes, you have my adult permission to do so.” Genji gave him the thumbs up.  
“Giving the word ‘adult’ a very broad meaning there cousin.” Hanzo tossed in two hundred.

“Hideki raise by 100, 100 to call, two hundred to re-raise again.”  
Genji threw in chips for both himself and Kimba, and added the re-raise. McCree leaned over again, but this time not as close.  
“Don’t re-raise now. I’d like more’n three rounds tonight.” He whispered. Did this stupid cowboy not consider his phrasing? Hanzo was not sure he could survive another three rounds of McCree’s poker talk, but he called, and waved the round back to Zenyatta anyway.  
That was the game then. 

“Cards?” Zenyatta gently inquired, and gestured at the table. Two aces, a three, and two sevens sat in the River. According to the hand ranking chart McCree had written out for them, Hanzo doubted anything could beat the pocket aces he now had.  
Genji tossed out two threes. “Full house, with my threes and those aces!”  
He offered both kids a hi-five, which Kimba took with enthusiasm, and Toshiro slapped like his arm was a wilted daisy. 

“A better full house here.” Kimba slid over a seven and a king of hearts, and Genji punched the air with a _yes!_ Hanzo gave a disappointed sigh. Genji just tapped the table with glee at his apparent defeat.  
“You know we really did not expect you…” He slid over the two aces. “To keep betting. Four of a kind.”

“What!? Whaat?” Genji stood up and pointed at the cards. “He actually had two aces!”  
“Are you suuure he didn’t cheat?” Toshiro narrowed his eyes at McCree, who held up his hands.  
“No, I am not.” Zenyatta of all people said, and everyone turned to look at the monk, who seemed shy all of a sudden.

“Well, I wished to make the game fun and interesting, so…”  
“Cooie, we got a card-counter at the table.” McCree grinned a wicked grin with his tongue perched just below his canine. He looked like positive sin, and Hanzo was dying. “And yer call me out. Tut tut.”  
“So Hanzo shouldn’t have had aces.” Genji looked at Zenyatta who nodded his head in shame.  
“Perhaps one?” Zenyatta upturned his burned cards, and that was when Hanzo really started to believe that McCree had powers beyond human (the Eye of Death notwithstanding). 

There was his club five and diamond jack. His original hand. Immaculately trained pokerface gone, Hanzo gaped at McCree, whose breast pocket was empty. The infuriating cowboy just lifted a finger to his lips, which Genji pointed at.  
“You cheated!”  
“Did not!”  
“Then explain why Hideki had an emotion!”  
“I don’t know, ask him!”  
“I do not know what you are talking about.” Hanzo schooled his face back to normal, as Kimba cackled.  
“This is the best game ever.” She pushed all the cards back to Zenyatta. “Let’s go again.”

McCree did not cheat again (that Hanzo saw), and Hanzo even had a feeling that he was folding on purpose at times to encourage the children (Genji included). Either that or Zenyatta was handing him the most challenging hands possible. In the end, the cowboy only won by a small margin of rounds. But it was fun at least, everyone seemed happy, and the children were actually unwilling to go to bed when the time came. 

However, when Hanzo returned from herding Toshiro and Kimba upstairs and releasing the weighted door mechanisms for the night, Genji had found his sake stash, McCree had brought out the whiskey, and there was a Twister mat on the floor. Oh no. Hanzo had stared death in the eyes many times, and here he was, about to do so again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poker looks like so much fun... usher me away from sin T.T 🙏 I actually wrote Zenyatta with the tiny hat before BOB even came out! Predicting the future 8)
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! I hope the poker terms aren't too confusing! n.n (if so just ask!)
> 
> Next chapter: Doom
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	15. His Royal Majesty, The Emperor of Japan

“Couples twister!” Genji announced happily, and uncorked a sake bottle.  
“Gengyo, you know we are not actually a couple.” Hanzo crossed his arms as Zenyatta plugged in the Twister mat. It was one of those ones that doubled as a Dance Dance Revolution floor, and the dots could be set to not only change at timed intervals, but as fast as the gamers liked. Hanzo only knew this because his dumbass brother had had to take two days off missions due to playing Twister alone on max speed and breaking his one remaining arm somehow.

“You know that I don’t care?” Genji’s facemask hissed off and he took a hearty swig of sake that definitely should not be swigged like cheap beer.  
“You had better be paying me back for that.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow at the sake that he very much had not paid for.  
“You mean this is you paying me back! For my…uhh, right foot.” Genji pointed at a bodypart he had not yet used to bargain with, and Hanzo gave a grudging sigh. The little shit knew he couldn’t argue with that.

“So how does this work, huh?” McCree was leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of whiskey, one eyebrow raised. Out of all the game choices tonight, this was the one he seemed most apprehensive about. Hanzo supposed it was not as easy to luck out in Twister.

“You put your hands or feet on the dots the spinner – me – calls out. The first one to fall over loses.” Genji supplied happily as Hanzo tugged the sake bottle out of his robo hand and took a sip. “On easy the dots change every minute and you have switch. Sometimes you don’t have to put your hands or feet on the mat, but instead on each other: for example ‘right hand Leg’ would mean you put your hand on your opponent’s leg. Losers do a dare for the winners. All good?”

“Ain’t this – “ McCree flexed his metal hand, then pointed at both Zenyatta and Genji. “ – kinda cheating?”  
“Huh. Now you are concerned with cheating.” Hanzo flicked the buttons on his expensive cotton shirt open, and tossed it onto the couch behind them. “I do not need enhancements to win.”  
“Ooh, first strip of the night.” Genji caught a glare for that as Hanzo rolled his shoulders. His dragons flexed on his skin, a pop of blue on the pale planes of his muscles. 

At the kitchen island McCree took a large sip of whiskey. A very large sip of whiskey. He was going to be no good for surveillance tonight if he continued. Then the probably tipsy cowboy stepped up, and eyed the light-up mat with trepidation.

“You’re gonna play Twister in jeans?” Genji tossed his FLORIDA hat off, and yanked his entire shirt over his head without even unbuttoning, it was so baggy on him.  
“I ain’t gonna take em off if that’s what you’re gunnin’ for.” McCree shot Genji a cool glace, but reached back and put his hat on the kitchen island. Why he insisted on wearing it indoors, Hanzo would never understand. Unless it was for ‘aesthetic’.  
“Aww, RIP Blackwatch McCree the Bootyshorts Boy.” Genji pouted, and Hanzo raised an eyebrow. Wait. No. He had been visited by too many inappropriate thoughts of McCree tonight as it was, never mind whatever ‘the Bootyshorts Boy’ was. Unfortunately, it was too late and already in Hanzo’s head.

“Y’see , that’s exactly why.” McCree pointed at Hanzo’s eyebrow judgement.  
“At least take the belt off. Imagine Hanzo having to wear an eyepatch because he got blindsided by a capital letter ‘F’.” Genji spun the dial, then paused. “No wait, that would actually be a wonderful story – “  
“So long as he does not put his cowboy boots on, I should be fine.” Hanzo interrupted, and crossed his arms. To his surprise, McCree gave an amused scoff behind him, so Hanzo had another gulp of sake to distract himself from the little pleased bubble that brought to his chest.  
“Yeah, save those for the bedroom – right hand blue!” Genji rushed before Hanzo could swat him.

Fifty nine seconds later found them both with their hands on one side of the mat (green and yellow), Hanzo’s left leg under McCree to reach an agreeable blue square, his other leg in clear space behind him on red, while McCree’s right leg was underneath Hanzo to reach red, because they had both tried to make it difficult on each other by trying to block.

“And colour change!” Genji called as the dots flashed, and Hanzo jumped to switch his legs under him and out into an easy ninja crouch to hit the right colours. McCree took a little longer to get there, but he did not fall over. Yet. He had a large reliance on his metal arm for steadiness, but Hanzo could play the stamina game. He was not sure what sort of dares the hick cowboy might come up with, but by no means did Hanzo intend to partake.  
“Left foot, face.” Genji gave the spinner a tipsy flick, and Hanzo scowled.  
“Seriously?”  
“Yaas, now go!” Genji clapped. 

Hanzo made a displeased grunt, but had the good fortune of his left side being nearest McCree. So he lifted his leg and squished his toes into McCree’s beard. One of the weirder sensations in life, he had to admit. The other man shot him a bitchy pout, then twisted his left leg under his body and met Hanzo’s face with a large, warm foot.

“Ugh.” Hanzo’s only solace was that McCree was shaking with the exertion of holding such a ridiculous pose. He would fall and lose; game to Hanzo.  
“Suck it up, yer delicate prince.” McCree poked his cheek with a toe, and Hanzo just raised his eyes to the sky for strength from his ancestors to give him a merciful streak.  
“Don’t mind me...” Genji pulled out his phone from his heinous cargo shorts and took a photo of possibly the two most irate men in the world.  
“Spin!” Both McCree and Hanzo snapped together, and Genji gave a dramatic sigh, pocketed his phone and batted the spinner.

“Right foot air.”  
“Are you serious?” McCree exclaimed, but Hanzo just shot him a smug look. He pushed himself up on to his hands and did a split-leg hand-stand, with one foot in the air, the other smooshed onto McCree’s face.  
“Ok. Fine, I’m out.” McCree slid down on to his hip with a huff. Hanzo simply bent his arms, pushed off, and used the momentum to hop back to his feet again. The sake plus exertion may have made a weaker man stumble, but Hanzo was tipsy at least sixty percent of the time, so he was not a victim to inexperience.

“Alright yer showoff. What you gonna dare me?” McCree pushed up off the mat, and went straight for his whiskey again.  
“Oh no.” Genji interrupted and thrust his half-empty bottle of sake into Hanzo’s bare tiddies. “The losing _team_ does the winning team’s dare.”  
“That,” Hanzo pointed at the little demon he had for a brother, “was not what you said.”

“I said _losers_ do a dare. _Winners_ give them one. You’re the one who failed to ask the T’s and C’s _aniki_ .” Genji kicked off his cargo shorts and strutted to the mat with Zenyatta in tow. “Let’s show these losers how it’s done Zenpai.”  
So Hanzo took a long draught of sake, and flicked the spinner.

What had been Twister turned into a five minute pseudo-break-dancing competition; Genji had obviously taken breaking his arm as a sign to improve, and practically hopped from colour to colour in a silver blur. However, it was difficult to match Zenyatta and his six arms that he conjured from the astral plane. And technically, there wasn’t anything in the rules about conjuring arms from the astral plane, and they did technically belong to Zenyatta, so all Hanzo could do was sit there, call out positions, and possibly get nightmares from the omnic monk twisting his legs backwards like a horror film monster to reach squares in time. Their victory was inevitable. At least Hanzo had another, newly opened bottle of sake. That should soften whatever weird dare his weird brother came up with.

“Agh!” Finally, Genji fell flat on his face right on top of Zenyatta. “I concede to you, honourable master. Soften my loss with your healing hands.”  
“There is no such thing as loss, my dear Genji.” Zenyatta gave Genji a four-handed pat on the back. “Simply experiences from which to learn.”  
Wow. Hanzo had never heard positive reinforcement in real life before. No wonder Genji was a remade man. He took another swig of sake.

“Well that was rigged.” McCree commented mildly as the metallic pair rose to their feet again. Zenyatta’s limbs all whirred back into their natural positions, and he just floated off the mat like he had not become an Eldritch horror. That deserved a sip of comfort sake.  
“Well now you know what it’s like to play poker with you.” Genji panted, then stumbled over to where his horrific cargo shorts had been thrown.  
“Your dare!” He held aloft a box of Pocky he retrieved from one of the huge pockets, and Hanzo could almost see the exclamation animation around it that his otaku brother had probably imagined.

“Pocky?” McCree uncrossed his arms and stood up from where he had been leaning against the couch back next to Hanzo. “What, you want us to eat it?”  
“You and Hideki have to share one.” Genji pulled a chocolate-covered biscuit stick out of the battered pack.  
“That’s it?” Hanzo scoffed and snatched it out of his brother’s hand, although the movement made him a little dizzy. How much had he drunk? Who knew. Who cared? 

“Come get it, cowboy.” Hanzo’s brain celebrated the petty revenge on all of McCree’s inappropriate poker phrasing, and popped the end in his mouth.  
“That’s all?” McCree shot Genji a suspicious look, for good reason, and the menace nodded with enthusiasm. “Alrighty then.”

“Betcha Hanzo breaks off first.” Genji received a rude gesture for that, and then Hanzo may have gotten a little distracted. McCree ducked down to his height, put a hot hand on Hanzo’s bare dragon shoulder (of all scandalous things!) and took the other end in his mouth. Hanzo played the children’s chicken game, nibbled on the biscuit until McCree was close enough that Hanzo could breathe in the scent of spiced tobacco and whiskey, that Hanzo could feel the heat of his body, and the brush of his beard – 

_Snap._

Hanzo pulled back, and so did McCree, although his shoulder still tingled where the cowboy’s hand had left. Hanzo buzzed with heat all over, but that was probably the heinous amount of sake he’d just put down.

“Lame dare, Gengyo.” Hanzo pursed his lips over the wild thud of his heart.  
“Oh don’t worry! Next time I’ll make you wall twerk or something to make up. I just rediscovered the trend from the early 2000’s.” Genji gave them a thumbs up, and held up his phone showing what looked like someone doing a wall handstand, but they were on fire. That appeared to be something Genji would do in his spare time.

“Anyway, Zayarvar and I better get going. Marcos has school tomorrow…I have temple duties…” Genji clicked his facemask back on and got a fond pat from Zenyatta. ‘Temple duties’ indeed.  
“Oh shit, yeah.” McCree sighed and glanced at the hallway clock. It was almost 1am. “Damn 6am starts.”  
“Take your clothes.” Hanzo barked, as Genji had almost escaped naked out into the night.  
“Ugh, fine.” Genji threw his head back and dragged himself to the separate corners of the open plan rooms where he had thrown the offensive items. “You can keep these though.”

Genji handed Hanzo his pack of cards, and gestured at the other two games.  
“Looks like your kids were more desperate for entertainment than I thought. Either that, or buy them a VR or console.” Genji shrugged, and pulled on his heinous beige shorts. “Oh yes, and good luck with _that_ Marcos. Just do what he says, and don’t criticize hierarchical government structure. It wears off in a few hours.”

Genji pointed at Hanzo, and received confused expressions from the pair of them.  
“What in the – “  
“Bye now!” Genji waved, as did Zenyatta, and they departed out into the night. Hanzo was not even worried about their safety walking back to the temple. Even the Yakuza knew to never mess with a Shambali monk.

“Did I do everything to plan, master?” Genji skipped a little down the empty street, one arm around Zenyatta’s slender metal waist. He couldn’t believe they had escaped before Drunk Hanzo had kicked in. The elegant monk turned to look back at the house, then wrapped an arm, warm with the resonance of The Iris, around his shoulder.  
“Perfectly, my student.” He praised, with that mellow, deep voice of his. Genji gave a dreamy sigh, and almost missed what he said next. “It will be interesting to see where their energies lead them.”

“Well that weren’t bad.” McCree shrugged, rolled up the Twister mat, and stacked it between one of their aesthetic shelves and the TV.  
“Hm.” Hanzo considered his mostly-empty sake bottle rather than McCree, seemed to have a small internal debate with himself, then chugged it. Oh, so now that Genji and Zenyatta was gone, Hanzo was gonna turn back into his self-righteous, stuck-up self? Well that just burned McCree’s grits, that did. 

So he chewed an old scar inside his cheek and headed up the stairs. Still, McCree couldn’t help but think of Hanzo from a few minutes before when they’d done that Pocky dare. His subtly lined eyes had gone all lazy with drink and focussed on McCree’s lips. His sharp features had turned surprisingly decadent – all too similar to a kisssin’ face. Also, it might have been McCree’s imagination, but he swore he’d felt somethin’ he could only describe as like a tame storm under the palm that he had unthinkingly placed on Hanzo’s dragons. Electric and brewin’, but not painful. Was that how them dragons usually felt?

“Marcos.” Hanzo’s low voice made him jump as he made it halfway down the hallway. Hanzo’d followed him?  
“Yeah?” McCree turned around, and his face fell back into his natural grimace. That is until the shorter, still very shirtless, muscular man put a hand on his chest and slammed him into the wall beside their bedroom door. What… Was this…?

Hanzo leaned in close enough that their chests brushed, his eyes all drugged-lookin’. Up close he smelled like jasmine and sweet wine, and McCree just stared, heart goin’ like a wild stallion with either panic or somethin’ a little more dishonourable. Was Hanzo makin’ a move on him? Drunk? McCree couldn’t go along with that. But he suddenly realized that if Hanzo wasn’t drunk he might totally go along with it, ‘cause shit those lips looked like paradise. But he hated the guy. Well, disliked him. Mainly for his vehicle choices. And Hanzo didn’t seem to like him all that much. Was it just a physical thing? Would hate sex really be so bad?

While McCree’s rattled brain went through a hundred possibilities a second, Hanzo just reached up and slapped Genji’s card box beside his head. Was that also flirtin? ‘Cause it was working.  
“How.” Hanzo’s voice was all gritty from drinking, and the poor cowboy couldn’t think for the life of him what Hanzo was askin’.  
“How what?” McCree was surprised at how weak his own voice sounded, and cleared his throat.  
“You – “ Hanzo slid a finger up McCree’s chest and pouted those very pretty lips. “- switched out my jack and five with Zayarvar’s cards. How? How’d you get those aces? How?” 

McCree sighed with relief. By the desert eagles, he’d been sweatin’ a storm here. Hanzo’s eyebrows dipped in tipsy confusion, and McCree had to say it was almost cute.  
“Ah, well a good player should never – “  
“Tell me!” Hanzo barked, loud enough that he might wake the kids, so McCree made a little shushing noise, and held up a hand in defeat. It didn’t help his situation that Hanzo was now pressed right against his chest. Drunk Hanzo had less consideration for personal space than sober Hanzo, and McCree’s lower brain functions were liking it more than his higher morals wanted to admit.

“Well, y’see I was counting too, and I got good hunches when it comes to cards, and readin’ what people have.” McCree licked his lips and pressed himself a little more into the wall so Hanzo was less likely to notice how uncomfortable this situation were really gettin’. “So I figured a couple of the cards in the burn were aces, and that there was another on the way. When I folded, I picked em up.”

He shrugged, and Hanzo let off a little bit. McCree breathed a little better and praised the high noon sun for the spare inches.  
“And the jack-five?” Hanzo tilted his chin with one of the most regal looks McCree had seen from him yet.  
“Now, only top tier magicians and poker hustlers know that move.” McCree lied, and sidled off the wall in case Hanzo attempted to pin him again. “If yer get better at the game, maybe I’ll teach ya.”

“Hmph.” Hanzo looked him up and down, then crossed his arms. “We find this acceptable. You may bow and leave my presence now.”  
“What?” This confrontation had taken many strange turns, and this was another curveball. “Hideki, did you just use the royal ‘we’?”  
“Call me _Tennō Heika_ if you are to address me. Now go to bed, peasant.” Hanzo flicked his hand at the door, his slightly slurred speech an odd contrast to his words. 

McCree gaped, despite himself.  
“Yer gonna take the first shift? Yer drunk.” McCree put his hands on his hips and glared back. How did he find this snob attractive again?  
“You do not get to judge me. I am competent enough to take all of tonight’s shifts.” Hanzo actually turned his back. “Now speak to me properly or do not speak to me at all.”

McCree was sorely considerin’ handing this drunk bastard his ass when he remembered Genji’s parting words: _‘good luck with that, Marcos. Just do what he says, and don’t criticize hierarchical government structure. It wears off in a few hours’._ So McCree ground his teeth and stalked off into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is a royal drunk and nobody can convince me otherwise. I am also drunk. Forgive me.  
> this chapter was brought to you by this gif in particular.  
>   
> Also: If you think writing sex is hard TRY WRITING FUCKING TWISTER  
> we can finally get on with the gotdamn story now lol
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! ^.^b
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	16. Reaper Becomes A Chair And Other Incidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important:** I wrote this before any lore about Maximillien came out, so I made up my own stuff. I didn't change it when stuff came out, because what does Blizzard know anyway #Freehongkong  
> Enjoy!

Mariko leaned back in her luxury black Mercedes with a frustrated sigh as she hacked into probably the fiftieth security camera of the night. The investigation on Raiju so far had been a disaster. Every vaguely Japanese person at the airport that Mariko and her Yakuza minions had pretended to want photos with had not resembled Raiju, their eye scans had disproved a disguise theory Mariko had come up with (if Raiju was capable of all these other things, why not disguise?), and none of the outgoing passengers since the incident, as far as Mariko’s contacts could pick up, had been Raiju. Outgoing ships had been an equally similar failure. So for now, Mariko had to settle with that America was a large place. If Raiju had taken off, he could be thousands of miles away by now hiding in a corn field dressed as a scarecrow for all she knew. That is, if Raiju was the offender in the first place.

Mariko scowled and poked her screen, as she accessed the backlogs of the pier security cameras. The security cameras for all the hotspots of the crimes had been wiped, but nobody could divert an entire city’s worth of surveillance. A delivery van had arrived at the White Tiger sometime before the crime, and left sometime after the crime; the only oddity on this almost clean slate. The windows were tinted, so Mariko could not ID the driver, but it was the only lead she had, and its movements had made her even more suspicious.

Instead of heading back to the delivery service hub, Mariko had pieced together footage that showed a beeline to the coast. The ocean was a great place to hide evidence. If someone had framed Raiju, his bones could not be found in the White Tiger wreckage. 

Mariko swallowed as she scrolled through the dated footage. She almost would prefer it to be Raiju. Taking on one’s own group was risky, but simple enough if you knew their machinations – hell, she was only waiting for the right opportunity for an ‘accident’ to happen to Yamazaki-san. But for some unknown party to come in and do this, target the America-based Yakuza on purpose… Either a gang war was brewing, or some serious vigilante work was going on, and either party had to have balls of Damascus steel to pull this shit off.

“There you are.” Mariko tapped the correct date, and skipped through to the appropriate time. There it was. A ball of triumphant energy rose in her chest as the van pulled up. It’s rear end was out of the camera’s scope, but that didn’t matter as long as it caught the driver. She waited, with bated breath for a long few seconds.

“What the hell!” A glitch? A _glitch?_ What kind of cameras did these beachfront peasants use? Polaroids?? Mariko chose not to hurl her tablet out the window, and rewound back to the second the van door opened. A hand was all she got before the picture crumpled into a skew of blurry pixels and white and black corruption for just a moment. Then it returned to normal. But the driver was gone. Mariko sat there for twenty minutes squeezing her kawaii pizza stress cushion, but whoever it was did not return. After half an hour, the van set off on automatic back to hell for all she cared.

“Alright,” Mariko growled to herself. “I am going to every suspicious death scene. Through every single security camera. Raiju or not, you’re going down.”  
Not only that, but she was going to send this over Yamazaki-san’s head. She was more competent. She was more dedicated. And she was going to get a promotion from this work whether Yamazaki-san stayed ‘accident free’ or not.

***  
“Well this is more like it.”  
Reaper looked up from his leather massage chair controls as Akande entered their private hotel lounge (credit to Lucio) with a good dose more dignity than last time.  
_“Oui.”_ Widowmaker didn’t even look away from their collective favourite show _Crime Time: Worst, Best, and Mysterious_ , and dipped shortbread her glass of expensive wine. Reaper had made several unwitting appearances on the ‘Mysterious’ section of the show, and had inspired many brave ghosthunters to go out and try and film ‘Johnny Shotguns’ as they had called him for some reason. Reaper would have to find the person who had come up with that nickname and show them how fun ‘Johnny Shotguns’ really was.

“Where have you been?” Moira, the only one who favoured anime over _Crime Time_ , sprayed what seriously looked like just piss on to Sombra’s forehead. The hacker had been scoping out their wonderful new hotel while invisible, and had run into a glass door because it was so clean and she had no reflection. With the help of Amelie’s heat vision, Reaper had had to appear out of the floor like a shadowy kraken and drag her down and away to their room with his darkness tentacles so that nobody tripped over her. The hotel staff had questioned nothing. They were smart.

“Thanks to Sombra’s intel,” Akande gestured at the unconscious spy on the couch, “we have narrowed down the cities where our targets could be located to three.”

He pulled up a map on their new holo-table, which was neither stolen from a patio store or surrounded by plastic chairs. Ahh, the good life. Three red blips pinged in different areas of America.  
“So what? Don’t tell me we split up and scope out those cities.” Reaper growled sardonically, and Akande shot him a glare. Every time they split up, they failed. In fact, it wasn’t often they succeeded.

“No, Reaper.” Akande huffed. “I went to my contacts. Amelie, you remember Maximillien?”  
_“Oui.”_ Widowmaker continued to watch the TV as a bank-robber on the show suddenly found himself surrounded with piles of cash but no way to carry it. Reaper snorted. What an idiot.

“Are we all paying attention?” Doomfist raised his doomfist, and Reaper just waved at him to stop.  
“Don’t smash the table, or we’ll have to go back to Widow’s tablet.”  
“If I let you.” Widow slurped some more wine, and finally paused the show. “Anyway, what has the omnic with a gambling problem got to do with this?”  
“I offered to pay off some of his debt for services.” Akande brought up a list of omnics that looked eerily similar to Maximillien. 

Reaper wondered whether some companies just designed their omnics to look like they had walked out of an early 2000’s dystopian hell fever dream, or whether Maximillien and his groupies just went to an omnic modder and asked for the most evil look possible. Either way, Reaper liked their style. Dramatic. Red and black. Tsundere eyes (dammit Moira).

“As of right now, Maximillian and his omnics are out scouting the cities for anything of suspicion. We should receive reports in a day or two.” Akande closed the screen, and Reaper wondered whether Talon would let him sleep for that long without interruption.  
“Ugh, it’s so slow without Sombra being able to hack their communications.” Moira rolled her eyes and continued to shoot her yellow…substance on to their hacker friend.  
“Well, it was either hack Lucio –  
“-which you totally didn’t do because he put you in The Pit – “  
“ – or stay in the shipping container.” Akande ignored Reaper’s snide mutter, and brought up what looked like the location of an elite gym arena on the screen. Noo. Reaper was too old and dramatic for Spin Class these days. Moira didn’t bring up the Blackwatch Spin Sessions he’d grudgingly led (company mandated) seemingly because she valued her life or didn’t want to admit to it either.

“In the meantime, I hired this whole arena for team-building exercises. Our talents are great, but you must admit our teamwork needs polishing.” Akande gave them all a hard look as everyone groaned. “Do you want to destroy Overwatch and rule the world, or do you want to drink wine and sleep in your massage chairs while our enemies hone their skills?”  
Reaper dissolved a little more into his massage chair. 

“Very well.” Widowmaker sighed, put down her glass avec shortbread and went to change out of her silk bathrobe.  
“Alright. I will see what I can do about waking this wee one.” Moira pulled out a needle that looked unnecessarily horrific. Sombra being asleep was probably a mercy.  
“And you?” Akande raised his eyebrows at Reaper, who currently looked like an emo blanket thrown over a chair.

“Maybe I should stay here in case Overwatch turns up. Then I can spin around in this chair, shrouded in shadow, and say ‘Well, well, we –‘ “  
“You are coming.” Doomfist pointed at him with a tone that gave him Jack whiplash: a strange combination of wanting to bang a nerd librarian while also hating the nerd librarian.  
“Fine. Wake me up when everyone’s ready.” Reaper pointedly pressed the ‘on’ button of his massage chair with a claw and closed his eyes.

***

Maximillien picked at his tourist hoodie in distaste. He hated undercover jobs. He hated looking as poor as he actually was. He hated the way his tsundere eyes looked in _blue_ of all colours. And to top it all off, what he’d seen of this city’s suburbia wasn’t anything special. Oh well. There were worse ways to repay his debts than wandering around neighbourhoods, Maximillien supposed. But it was dark now, and unless those kids were doing night classes or something on a Wednesday, Maximillien doubted that he’d spot anything of use. 

As if by habit, or perhaps a deep, ingrained instinct, the disguised omnic realized his feet had taken him a little downtown of the city. More specifically, right to the doors of a casino. Oh well. Doomfist had given him money for investigating. Who knew, maybe one of the agents on the case of these kids was a gambler? Who went to this casino. Specifically. Maximillien shrugged. It was somewhat legitimate, and maybe he’d even double down on his payslip. So the very naughty omnic straightened his abysmal clothes, and strode in. Who knew, perhaps people would underestimate him because he looked like a tourist.

It wasn’t a bad casino; certainly not the glimmering elegance Maximillian was used to, but it still had the polished wood, red velvet look that showed an attempt at class. He walked straight past the pokie machines, which had the worst odds at winning but the flashiest lights, and headed towards the game tables. These things relied on chance and skill rather than casino programming. The dice and roulette tables almost seduced him, but the memory of Venice made him do a quick turn towards cards. Poker should do quite nicely tonight.

After the first game, Maximillien was sitting on a comfortable portion of chips when someone he could barely believe would show their face in a casino took a seat next to him. Some of the other players, who seemingly knew who the newcomer was, cracked a raised eyebrow as well.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I join?” A Shambali monk hovered up beside the table. A _Shambali monk_ in a casino. Maximillien thought he would never see the day. “I do not wish to play, simply to watch.”  
“Casino’s a free place.” One of the gamers shrugged, the dealer nodded, and the cards were dealt.  
“You do blessings and all that,” One of the less fortunate players scanned her cards, then looked up at the monk Maximillien could not believe was here. “how’s about you wish me luck?”  
“If you like.” The monk said with a polite intonation. “May the flop bring you fortune.”  
Some of the other players grinned at this well-mannered little monk handing out terms. But they stopped smiling when the woman he’d blessed won the game, and a huge pool at that.

“Well, that’s about me for the night I think. Shouldn’t…push my luck.” She tilted her dark glasses down and winked at their honourable guest. “Here. How about you try your hand, you lucky duck?”  
“Oh, I couldn’t – “  
“Here.” The lady handed him over five hundred dollars’ worth of chips on her way to covert her own winnings, and the poor monk looked flustered beyond belief. Well that was an easy five hundred in someone’s pocket, Maximillien thought as he eyed the stack.  
“Please, take my chips.” The monk pushed them towards a bearded man on his left. “I do not wish to deal in material goods.”  
“And miss a Shambali monk playing poker? I don’t think so!” The man grinned, and Maximillien laughed along with them.  
“I…suppose.” The monk pushed around his chips when he saw he wasn’t going to be able to give them away, nerves easy to read in his voice. Maximillien doubted he’d ever played a game in his life. “But I will not play to win.”

***

“Zenyatta?” Genji woke up to an empty omic-charging kotatsu in their temple room. Had he woken up late? Was he missing morning meditation? But his visual screen said he was up early, in fact. But Zenyatta never left without him… Panic thumped in Genji’s little heart.  
“Master?” He rose, and like a nervous cat, prowled towards their door. Nothing bad could happen in a Shambali temple. Nobody in their right mind would even attempt to attack an entire monastery.

“Genji!” The door opened, and in a beam of light and flower petals, Zenyatta floated into the room.  
“Agh…” Genji shielded his morning eyes from such beauty, like Aragorn looking at the new shiny Gandalf in those old but cool films, and sat back down with a _thump_ on his ass.

“Genji, I have done a very bad thing.” Zenyatta hung his head, and dropped onto the kotatsu duvet beside him.  
“What? What is it?” Genji could hardly believe Zenyatta was capable of doing a bad thing.  
“Poker last night was so fun…I could not stop thinking about it. I was so excited, you see.” Zenyatta said miserably. “So I went out to watch players at a casino, and then one of them offered me some chips…”

“Oh master.” Genji threw an arm around the monk’s shoulders. Guilt ate his cyber-stomach at how he’d coerced the honourable monk into poker in the first place. “How much do you owe? I can make Hanzo pay it.”  
He still had his left buttock and a few internal organs as leverage.

“Owe? No my dear Genji, I won so much money!” Zenyatta pretty much sobbed, and Genji opened then shut his mouth for a second. What? “I made one poor omnic so miserable that he held me at gunpoint afterwards in an alley to try and take it back!”  
“Oh. Is he ok?” Genji rubbed his master’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. Where was the money? Were Zenyatta’s baggy pants packed with fifties now? Why did he find that thought so hot?

“I simply rendered him unconscious, my dear. I left him some money, and instructed a taxi.” Zenyatta hung his head. “Was it right of me to take the money? I thought about distributing the chips, but that would encourage gambling. So I took it and donated it to every charity and homeless person I could, but does that mean I have robbed those who betted?”

“You don’t go into a casino and expect not to lose money.” Genji sighed. He’d gone and given his master a moral crisis by teaching him to play poker. He would have to make it up to Zenyatta in as many creative and flexible ways as possible.  
“I do not think I should play again.” Zenyatta looked so dejected that Genji just had to cheer him up somehow.

“Well how about, next time you play poker with me instead?” Genji reached around and squeezed his devastated master in a hug. “I can buy another set of cards, for like a dollar, and I’ve been playing against McCree for years. I’d love to see how a game between us goes. Maybe I could actually win!”  
“I will not accept betting real money, however.” Zenyatta calmed down a little, and petted Genji’s head. He didn’t deserve it. He’d been a bad boy.  
“Of course. We can use those shiny decorative rocks in the pond or something.” Genji unclasped his facemask to give Zenyatta a smooch on the cheek.

“But first, I shall sweep this whole temple as penance.” Zenyatta sighed, but it was a light sigh of relief, not a heavy one of burden.  
“Me too!” Genji winked, then let his facemask slip back on. “After all, I gave a Shambali monk a gambling problem. That’s gotta be a no-no. No protests!”  
He held up a finger as Zenyatta started to say something, then turned his hand to offer it to his master.  
“Come sweep with me?”  
“You are the sweetest.” Zenyatta gently donked his temple against Genji’s, and took the hand.

***

“How did the search go?”  
Maximillien clenched his bolts in nerves at Doomfist’s voice on the phone. Either tell the man who was so kindly helping with his debt that he had gone back to a casino, been cleansweeped by a Shambali monk who had later knocked him unconscious when he had tried to mug him for the winnings, and then printed him a little inspirational message which he had tucked with some fifties into Maximillien’s hoodie pocket….or lie.

“Nothing suspicious in this town at all.” Maximillian settled for the second. Besides, it was mostly true. Apart from a monk at a casino, nothing had been off.  
“Alright. Patrol for a few more days, collect intel from your colleagues, and meet me back at the assigned location.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands up if you were expecting McCree at the casino lol ;) Bets on what Hanzo's brief dalliance with the yakuza will amount to, anyone? :3
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please leave a comment! I love to hear what you thought n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	17. The Utopian Timeline

McCree breezed into the kitchen bright and early with two kids on his tail.  
“Well, how’s ‘His Majesty, the Emperor of Japan’ doing today?” He asked the man slumped face down on the kitchen island, clutching a portable coffee cup like his life depended on it. Hanzo just groaned, and remained face down on the marble top, wrapped in a blanket.

“I never called myself that.”  
“You called yerself _Tennō Heika._ I googled it. _Yer highness._ ” McCree gave him a brisk pat on the back, which was met with an even more lengthy groan. Then McCree noticed exactly what the blanket Hanzo had wrapped around his still-naked torso was.  
“You want me to get you your own serape, or are ya gonna keep borrowing mine.” McCree tugged at the green material, which Hanzo just pulled over his entire head.  
“Kill me.” Came the muffled moan.

“Oh wow, is Hideki dying? Can I get out the party poppers?” Toshiro had finally made it down the stairs, and perked himself up out of his usual morning grump at the sight of the pile that was Hanzo.  
“Tell that boy that if he makes a loud noise I will eat him.” Hanzo groaned, and curled up even more, if that was possible. McCree shot him an odd look at the sincerity behind that. Did Hanzo’s dragons…actually eat people?

“Poor ol’ Hideki’s just got a case of hangover.” McCree took mercy on the bastard and filled up a glass of water. He didn’t have time to make a hangover cure, and he doubted Hanzo would even drink it if he did.  
“Now you drink that, an’ help yerself to these.” He pushed some pills over, which he was sure were meant to cure a headache in a jiffy. “You got a _job_ , hangover or no.”

McCree tried to subtly remind Hanzo that he was doing this because they were meant to be high profile security guards on a case, and he needed his assigned partner. Maybe it was also because Hanzo looked like a pile o’ pity wrapped up in one of McCree’s own serapes for comfort, but nobody had to know.

“Now where’s that gal got to?” McCree muttered, and went to drag Kimba outta the bed she had probably crawled right back into. This mornin’ of all mornings she’d been particularly sulky, right when McCree had thought they were gettin’ along. Kids, man. He’d never get used to them.

McCree had finally herded these human-sized polecats into the minivan, and was just about to close the door, when he saw Hanzo’s arm snake out of the serape and drag the pills back under. Despite himself, the sight brought a little smile to the corner of McCree’s mouth. By the red desert, Hanzo could be strangely endearin’ sometimes.

***

That afternoon brought McCree’s worst nightmare.

Kimba climbed into the van sniffling. She wouldn’t talk to Toshiro. She didn’t answer McCree. Just stared out the windows with her headphones in, playin’ one of Lucio’s albums loud enough for them both to hear. Somethin’ about the little freckled girl lookin’ like that just made McCree’s gut twist in a way he couldn’t explain. All he could think of was the way she’d smiled so wide n’ happy with him on the deck when they’d played music together compared with this. What in tarnation did he do? Who in tarnation did he shoot?

By the time they got home, McCree was itchin’ with frustration.  
“Marcos – “  
“Just a mo, Hideki.” McCree interrupted Hanzo, who looked as though this morning had never happened, in a perfectly pressed suit and his usual array of spare café food on the kitchen island. Hanzo raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as McCree followed Kimba upstairs.

“There you go.” He gave her bedroom door a mighty ol’ wrench to open it, and chewed the old scar inside his cheek as she ran in. He’d barely closed it before he heard her break into sobs. His eye itched. There was a grating noise, and McCree realized he was crunchin’ his metal hand in a fist as the other one tapped his thigh where his holster usually sat. So McCree took a deep breath, and let the tension out as he breathed.

“Can I go in?” Toshiro sneered behind him, and raised his eyebrows as McCree turned to look.  
“Give her space.” McCree grunted, and rubbed his eye as he tried not to glare.  
“You don’t know her.” Toshiro jibed, and the kid was right. McCree didn’t know her or what to do here, but from what she’d done in the car, it seemed for now at least Kimba wanted to be alone. So McCree didn’t answer and just strode down the stairs.

“Boots.” Hideki flicked a finger at McCree’s jingle as he scanned his phone. McCree just huffed and strode back to the front door.  
“What was that about?” The other man still looked as cool and standoffish as always, but there was something curious in his eyes. Nah, not curious. Calculating.

“Kimba’s upset.” McCree grumbled and stacked his boots, mind still tickin’. He hadn’t seen anyone bullying her. In fact, she seemed to have a great new group of friends. Had a teacher upset her, or some kids in a class he couldn’t monitor? Or maybe it was just…one of them days? He knew he was stretchin’ for answers. What had made him cry as a kid? People dyin’ generally. But Toshiro hadn’t dropped dead, unless that were a very convincing poltergeist at the top of the stairs, and everyone else was alright.  
“Hm.” Hanzo looked up from his phone, but before McCree could call him a cold blooded lizard with a heart of ice, he yelled up the stairs.

“Toshiro-chan, get down here you little bastard!”  
Hanzo shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it over the couch back. McCree gaped. What in the tarnation? What was Hanzo’s game here? Because after living with this guy in close quarters for almost a week, McCree knew he had to have a gameplan. And McCree hoped it wasn’t to have two cryin’ children on their hands.  
“Ughhh.” Toshiro’s reluctant groan preceded him down the stairs. “Can I cry and get to go to my room? Look, Hideki, you’re so mean, you’re making me cry.”  
“Weep for me then.” Hanzo crossed his mountainous arms, and that was that. Toshiro rolled his eyes and dragged himself after Hanzo to do whatever they did in the dining room. As Hanzo ushered Toshiro in, he raised his phone at a bewildered McCree, who sat down heavily at the kitchen island.

_Bzzt._

From: Hideki

I saw Kimba have a discussion, perhaps an altercation with her Gym teacher. 📷 Perhaps this is the reason behind her being upset.

McCree raised his eyebrows. First of all at the word ‘altercation’, which seemed ridiculous and pretentious in a text message, and secondly at the knowledge that Hanzo had hacked the classroom security cameras.

_Bzzt._

Do with this information what you will. Kimba favours you. Toshiro will not interfere. xx

McCree stared like a fool at those two x’s for a long, stunned moment before he realized that Hanzo was not, in fact, being cute and sending him kisses, but that that was their code signal for conversations they wanted the other to delete.  
“Really? Over that?” McCree scowled at the sound of his beatin’ heart that would not be still, and deleted the convo. But despite Hanzo’s setup, McCree had no idea how to deliver. So he opened the back door, pulled out a cigar, and speed-dialled Genji.

“Marcos.” Genji’s glowing voice hummed over the receiver. Well, he sounded like he was having a better time than struggle city down here. The cyborg yawned.  
“What can I do for you in your hour of need?”  
“Kid’s cryin’ Goku.” McCree grumped back, though the itch had gone from his eye.  
“What? What did you do?” Genji scolded, and sounded like he sat upright. “Or was it Hideki? Who did he throw out a window?  
“Nothin’! I – wait, what?”  
“Oh nevermind, the highest we ever got thrown out of was two stories. We learned to aim for the pond.” Genji sounded far too cheerful about that than he should. “Anyway, what did you try?”

McCree just breezed past whatever strange childhood that was, and took a drag of his cigar.  
“She’s in her room right now, cryin. Didn’t say why, didn’t look to be in a talkin’ mood from the ride home.” McCree shrugged, and hated how helpless this felt. “Hideki distracted the brother, and thinks she mighta run into somethin’ with a teacher.”

“Hmm.” There was a series a metal _donks_ , and McCree imagined Genji tapping his chin. “Take her some food. Something sweet, and tell her before you come in that you have it. If she really wants to be alone, she’ll refuse it. She might take it but kick you out, but that means you helped. Or, she might be happy for the company. Give it a shot.”  
“Yer a lifesaver, Goku.” McCree sighed out some smoke, and scanned the yard on habit.  
“I know!” The ninja replied cheerfully. “Now I have to go do some mantras. These Om’s won’t vibrate themselves!”  
“Yeah, have fun vibratin’.” McCree drawled back, and Genji snort-laughed into the phone.  
“You know it! Bye!”  
And that was that. After a few more minutes of his cigar later, McCree clipped it and headed back inside.

Some of the stuff from Hanzo’d brought back from his café was cake, so McCree piled a few slices on a plate and took it upstairs. He was sure Hanzo wouldn’t mind. That guy didn’t even eat sweet stuff, did he? McCree shrugged, set his shoulders, and knocked on Kimba’s door.  
“Hey there kiddo,” He tried in the voice he was most used t’ usin’ on horses. “Brought yer some cake from Hideki’s café. Thought it might cheer you up.”

There was a long pause, and McCree wondered if she’d fallen asleep or still had her headphones in or something. Then came a little, wavering reply.  
“Ok.”  
He took that as an invitation, and hauled her door open. McCree had never been into Kimba’s room before, and the first thing that struck him was the sheer amount of Lucio posters. That brought a little quirk to his lip. It’d make the DJ’s day for sure. He’d have to ask Lucio for the favour of seeing Kimba in person if the situation were ever safe enough.

“So you like Lucio, huh?” McCree perched beside where Kimba had curled up on her bed, and held the plate in his hand within reach.  
“Duh.” Kimba said thickly, but there weren’t no venom behind it.  
“You know, I’ve heard people say don’t meet yer heroes, but apparently Lucio’s everythin’ he looks and more.” McCree settled on the horse tamer route, and nudged the food a little closer to his little girl.  
“Really?” Kimba sat up a little bit, and picked at something that looked full of chocolate and caramel.  
“Yeah. Inspirational. Always positive. Never lets anything get him or people around him down.” 

McCree’d never thought about Lucio all that much till now. But looking up at his teammate’s smile on the walls, he knew what he said was true.  
“Saved a good deal of lives in his time as well.”  
“Yes! I’ve heard he goes off and fights for freedom!” Kimba finally got her smile back, and McCree thought it might almost be as rewarding as shooting whoever’d upset her in the face. Almost.  
“I want to be like him.” She looked up at the posters with big eyes. “Make people happy when they’re sad with music. Be a hero.”  
“Well, with yer skill at Lucioball, you’d probably make him a great sidekick.” McCree smiled at the thought.  
“That would be so cool.” Kimba sighed, and ate more slice. Damn was Genji a god at this.

“You feelin better?” McCree asked with the most nonchalance he could muster. Most people he knew clammed up if they thought someone was worryin’ about them. The frustrations of livin with heroes. “If you wanna talk, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”  
There was a moment of silence as the kid looked uncertain.

“Were it something to do with a teacher?”  
Kimba looked up at that, then squished part of her slice with a finger.  
“Yeah. It’s…it’s, like, _that_ time of the month, and I didn’t want to do gym cause it hurt. And he’ll make me do it again tomorrow.” She ducked her head, embarrassed most like, but McCree had lived with Pharah growin’ up. Before Mercy’d changed the world, McCree had become used to battle cries such as ‘my uterus is destroying itself!’ before being socked in the jaw.

“Well first of all, I’ll write you a note.” McCree had a few choice ideas of how that might read. “And second, I’ll book you in for the Ziegler Op if you like. No periods forever, no downsides, no large fee.”  
“Yes! Please!” Kimba put down her slice, and clapped her hands. “Most kids get it as soon as it starts, but with all the moving, and the adoptions…”  
“I hear ya, kiddo.” McCree mussed a hand into her mini-afro. “I’m yer dad ain’t I? I got yer back.”  
As soon as he said it, his breath caught. So that was it. That was The Secret. 

Kimba just gave a little sob, lunged forward and knocked cake everywhere, and wrapped her arms around his chest.  
“Thank you so much Marcos.”  
McCree froze. Opened his mouth, shut it, then slowly hugged her back. He’d done… _good._  
“Okay now,” McCree said thickly, and patted the little tyke on the head. “how ‘bout we get you some pills for the pain, order takeaways and watch some westerns? Maybe even get in a round o’ cards if the others are feelin’ it.”  
“Westerns?” Kimba looked up with a frown, and McCree tried not to choke with dismay. Be strong, McCree, he thought to himself.  
“Alright, well now I got a duty as a father t’ get you educated.” He pointed at her. “ ‘Bass Reeves and the Three Thousand Thieves’ y’ can’t live without seein’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't hear from many of you last chapter, so i hope y'all are still enjoying!!  
> If you're wondering about [ Bass Reeves](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bass_Reeves) :3 (I made up the movie though, but there are other ones)
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of the chapter! n.n
> 
> Next up: cryptids 8)
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	18. Mothman

“Well that didn’t turn out so bad.”  
Hanzo eyed McCree as the cowboy flopped down on the couch after both children had disappeared off to bed. After their lessons, and getting Toshiro to present the mochi he had made to the rest of the family in true Shimada style (his bowing still needed work), McCree had enforced that they must watch Westerns (not bad, but Hanzo would never admit it). Then, after a round or two of poker, both children were sent tears-free to bed.

“You did a good job.” Hanzo announced, and the cowboy glanced at him. Hanzo even forgave him for stealing his cake.  
“Hm? Weren’t paying attention, could you say that again?”  
“You heard me. Now move your legs or I will sit on them.” Hanzo waved a hand at the legs McCree had stretched over the couch, which he transferred to rest on the coffee table. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was her gym teacher she were having trouble with. You were right.” McCree slid his report tablet out from where it was hidden in the couch bottom and Hanzo raised an eyebrow.  
“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”  
McCree opened his mouth, then a wicked grin spread across his face and gave Hanzo heart palpitations.  
“Now yer talkin’.” His smile faltered as he concentrated on writing something out. “He sounds like a right rattlesnake though. If he treats Kimba like that, who knows who else he upsets.”

“His name is Theo Anagnos.” Hanzo had gone over the footage, and identified the teacher as the one who was his expendable PTA tool. “I could get rid of him.”  
“We’d both like to, but we got a cover to keep.” McCree sighed, and Hanzo had an oddly nice moment wherein he appreciated their murderous solidarity. But it was not what he had meant.  
“I shall rephrase. I can get him fired.” Hanzo was well liked in the PTA, he had enough money for bribes, and could use Theo’s character against him. It would be a challenge, but Hanzo was starved for a little practise. 

McCree looked up at that.  
“Now how’d you think you’ll go about that?”  
“First, I need him antagonized.” A plan was already bubbling to the front of Hanzo’s mind, easy as breathing. A gym teacher versus Japan’s most effective Yakuza chairman? Hanzo would tear him to _pieces_.   
“Well ahead of you, pard’ner.” McCree proffered his tablet. “Give that note a gander.”  
Hanzo took it with the haughtiness of a man whose standards for blackmail notes were high.

“ ‘To the misogynistic bastard who upset my daughter,’ Good start.” Hanzo nodded with approval, and McCree smirked. “ ‘Kimba will not be doing gym until I send you a note saying so. If you don’t comply, she has my permission to replace gym with one of my classes, where the teaching is competent.   
Shame on you,   
Marcos Sierra-Kubo.’”

“Think that’ll push his buttons?” McCree settled his arms across his stomach, and it struck Hanzo how nice it was to plot with a morally grey individual again. Overwatch challenged him physically, but this had reawakened his mind.

“I think the commands will definitely injure his ego. However we could go a step further. Perhaps ask him to write an apology letter to Kimba, like a pre-schooler.” He handed back McCree’s tablet, and the man pulled an appreciative face.   
“That’ll do nicely.” There was a moment of tapping, and Hanzo took the opportunity to dial Genji.

“Gengyo. I have found you a job.” He asserted, as soon as Genji picked up the phone.  
“Ugh, you sound like dad.” Genji groaned back, obviously half asleep.  
“Don’t make me come over there.”  
“Now you sound like mom.” Genji’s voice became muffled, as Hanzo guessed he flopped over face-down into cushions.  
“Find out everything you can about a man named Theo Anagnos. Go to his house if you have to. Look through records. Send me what you find, and the best selfie you have, and await further instructions.”

“ _Aniki_ , I am getting major flashbacks here.” There was a concerned strain in Genji’s voice, which Hanzo tried to ignore.  
“It’s for my _marriage_ , Gengyo.” Hanzo used the code word for ‘the mission’, glared at thin air, then took a breath and gritted out: “Do it for the children.”  
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll get up out of my nice warm bed for the children. Laters.” Genji hung up, and McCree handed over his tablet with the revised letter on it. Oh, Hanzo liked this. It felt like being in charge again.

After a quick scan of the document, Hanzo smiled.  
“Perfect.”  
“Wow, two compliments tonight. Must be my birthday.” McCree drawled, but Hanzo was in too much of a good mood to shoot him down.  
“When _is_ your birthday?” He pulled out his own tablet, and started up a report to Morrison.  
“Twelfth of December.” McCree hit ‘print’ on the note, and watched his pad churn it out. Hanzo raised an eyebrow and sent him with a withering look.  
“The twelfth of the twelfth?”  
“Yeah, at twelve o’ clock.” McCree nodded, but the side of his lip twitched up.  
“Tch. _Baka_.” Hanzo couldn’t help a smile to himself as he shook his head. 

There was a quiet moment, as they both tapped away on their tablets. It almost felt friendly. Hanzo glanced up to look at the other man, whose eyes flitted back to his own tablet. Had McCree been watching him? But Hanzo supposed he had looked up to watch McCree. What was this? Some television drama? He opened his mouth to say something, but drew a complete blank, and looked back at his report. It felt as though a single wrong word might send them back into an argument.

“We should watch somethin’.” McCree unwittingly saved Hanzo from his floundering.  
“Hm. Go ahead.” He regressed back to his superior nonchalance, and waved at the remote.  
“We already watched somethin’ I like. What do you watch?”   
“I…” Hanzo had not been expecting that, but kept his neutral face on. “…don’t really watch much.”  
McCree just gave him a long look, which Hanzo pretended to work under.  
“You think I’ll make fun of you for what you like.”

First of all, how dare he call out Hanzo so accurately, and second of all, damn that people-reading peasant.  
“I simply think you would not be interested.” Hanzo typed a ‘the’ without even reading his sentence.  
“Let’s see, I seen Goku’s ancient, old, and modern anime, I seen that truck program Torbjorn’s obsessed with, I seen Reinhardt’s strange beach show, I watched D.Va stream Starcraft for an hour once, so unless yer watch…I don’t know, livestreams of the stock market, I’m pretty much game for anythin’.” McCree drawled and crossed his arms, then faltered a little at Hanzo’s silence. “Yer…don’t watch stock markets do you?”  
“No! No.” Hanzo gave up on his report with a sigh, the held out a hand for the remote. “Give me that.”

McCree handed it over, and Hanzo sorted through their streaming network until he found _Crime Time: Worst, Best, and Mysterious_ , and clicked on the newest episode.

“Welcome to Crime Time – the worst, best, and most mysterious crimes you’ll ever see broadcasted.” The woman who presented it announced with her usual relish. “Today: mastermind or master failure? Brain Wells the Bank robber! Are the Association of the Ten Pearls criminals or complete class? And has Mothman got murder on his mind? A strange appearance in a city near you might confirm your worst fears!”

“Hey, I heard of Brian Wells.” McCree’s brow furrowed at the screen. “That bank heist was the shittiest I ever seen, and they call it a mastermind plot.”  
“Really?” Had Hanzo…found someone who liked to criticize shitty criminals as much as he did?  
“Yeah, it was way too complicated for a real small projected profit. You’ll see.” McCree said with the air of a man who was well versed in bank heists. Hanzo wondered if it would be weird for him to ask McCree to say ‘projected profit’ again.

“I am more concerned that these people are covering the Ten Pearls.” Hanzo settled down more into the couch, but deigned to leave the sake where it was for now, considering last night. “They are opposition to the Triads.”  
“Ooh.” McCree hissed, but was polite, and did not question how Hanzo knew that. “It’ll be interestin’ to see how they frame that.”

Picking apart the bank case was great fun with McCree, who had far superior ideas on how to rob such a low-tech place. Then Hanzo told McCree probably far more than he should have about the Ten Pearls in the second segment, but oddly enough, the third section held the most surprises.

“We just received footage this week, and our dedicated omnic editors worked their bolts off to get this to you.” The presenter leaned in to exaggerate the drama. “Has the famous cryptid Mothman returned?”  
“This section largely makes a great deal out of nothing.” Hanzo drew his knees up to his chest, and rested his elbows on them.  
“Ah well. I’m invested now.” McCree stretched the entire line of his body up to his arms, which he draped across the couch back. Hanzo shot the arm that fell behind him a sharp glance, but let it be for now. 

“This was taken from the outside of a high rise apartment block.”

On the screen, footage from a security camera popped up. There was a silvery-blue shimmer in the black of night, a pair of glowing blue eyes, and then the camera glitched into a multitude of colours. When it recovered, whatever it was had vanished. _Whatever it was_. Hanzo covered his mouth with his hands, and stared, as the footage replayed.

“Are you – “ McCree broke off as he glanced at Hanzo. Then he looked at the screen. And clicked. “Mothman?”  
“Do I look like mothman?” Hanzo hissed, furious that he had been caught even for a second. In a big, highly advanced city like this, there was just so much security. McCree just pointed at the screen.  
“Yeah, kinda.” He raised his eyebrows at Hanzo’s glare. “How’d you get that high up?”  
“I climbed, you idiot.” Hanzo fumed as the presenter talked about the person who had ‘mysteriously died’ in the building that night. “Most high rises only focus cameras on the street. The most effective way to get in without being seen is to climb the side.”

“Ok yer Spiderman then. There’s no way even you can jump between those ledges.” McCree squinted, as if trying to find some sort of grapple-hook shooter on him. “And what’s that glitch about?”  
“My dr…dragons help me jump.” Hanzo finished. He did not like providing information about the Shimada secrets, but he felt that McCree was not the type to gossip. “It is like the wind of a storm behind my back. As for the camera, I am not sure. I do not think they like to be recorded.”

McCree shot him a ‘fair enough’ kind of face, and went back to the show, that was listing a few of the other assassinations Hanzo had made that night. Fuck.  
“Just how many people didja off in one night?” McCree raised an eyebrow at the list, and Hanzo just shrugged.  
“Like, ten. Outside of the fire.” 

But instead of huffing or glaring or rolling his eyes, McCree shot Hanzo a look that _smouldered_.  
“Cooie,” He whistled. “That’s one hell of a number.”  
“What, like it’s hard?” Maybe Hanzo was basking a little bit, and maybe he was fishing for another look like that. He was hyper aware of that arm behind him now, and how warm McCree looked, and how he sat, manspreading to the max like a slutty, slutty cowboy, with a different yet still unfortunately eye-catching belt that read HMWK. Who the fuck made these?

“In this day n’ age. I’ve only passed that on missions.” McCree looked him up and down. “For a spree killer, that’s near impossible to do clean.”  
“I am not a spree killer.” Hanzo said in a harsh whisper, because if the children heard this, very little could explain it.  
“I mean…” McCree made a uncertain noise. “Yer walkin the line.”  
“They weren’t exactly civilians.” Hanzo slid his legs down from up against his chest, and crossed his arms.  
“Exactly. Otherwise you’d totally be a spree killer.” McCree shot him a ghost of a wink, and Hanzo just opened his mouth, confused. Was McCree against this or not? 

“Though how’d you stage the one that ‘slipped on a banana peel and impaled themselves on a knife in the drying rack’?” McCree read off the screen, and Hanzo gave a huff of laughter at the memory.  
“That is actually exactly like it sounds. She saw me, took a step back and slipped on the peel in her mess of an apartment.” Hanzo smiled at McCree’s chortle and tried to ignore the rush that surged up his stomach like a teenager on their first date.

“I think snapping necks is one of my favourites.” McCree nodded. Hanzo would literally pay good money to see McCree use the strength he’d felt from those arms to annihilate someone.  
“Hm. Crunchy. Satisfying.” Hanzo nodded, and McCree burst into laughter, which was another shock to the system. It was richer than Hanzo was, deep, and showed crinkles at his eyes. 

“What?” Hanzo, a complete mess of a man, choked out in a very angry tone. His brain had been shocked back to default, it seemed.  
“Sounds like yer advertisin’ cereal.” McCree grinned, and licked his canine. Inappropriate. Blocked.   
“Anyhoo, it’s gettin’ on to twelve.” He continued before Hanzo could recover, as the crime show’s credits began to roll. Had hadn’t even checked the clock. Did this man sense 12 o’ clock like a dog senses a tsunami?

“Hm. You should get to bed.” Hanzo reached over and turned the TV off, still in stunted Default Mode.  
“You took all of last night’s watches. I can do the first.”  
Hanzo opened his mouth, but could find no argument, so he closed it again.  
“Very well.” Hanzo rose, although by the time he reached their bedroom door, he wished he had said thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mccree when hanzo says he’s killed 10 people   
>   
> A good night in with the boys :3
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of the chapter x) it always makes my day!
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	19. Takin' Out the Trash

McCree had just finished a section on complex questions, and handed out the assigned Spanish readings for his 12th Grade class to translate, when his phone dinged. It wasn’t the X-Files theme that he had assigned to Hanzo last night, nor was it Genji’s Kamehameha alert or Zenyatta’s loud, peaceful OHM that McCree swore could factory reset his brain if it took him on unawares, so it must be one of the kids.

“Ooh, using your phone in class sir?” A blonde girl he’d got to know as Cindy called.  
“Eat my ass, Cindy.” McCree leaned against his desk and unlocked his phone, as the class burst into laughter.  
“Ooh, if Cindy says no, can I?” A guy McCree called Thirsty Jésus piped up from the back.  
“Ask in Spanish or don’t ask at all.” McCree chewed the toothpick he had decided helped with his oral fixation and checked the message. It was from Kimba.

Well, cooie, looked like Mr Anagnos hadn’t taken to his letter kindly at all. Just as Hanzo had predicted. That man was kinda admirable to work with, McCree had to admit, and bonding with him a little last night had put McCree in a good mood. He tried not to think about how maybe that was because Hanzo, despite his snobbery, was on the Ace-high side of handsome, and seeing him talk about somethin’ he enjoyed made him more human. And maybe he gave McCree slight butterflies. Ugh.  
“Change o’ plan class. We’re having the rest of the lesson on the sports field.” McCree slid his phone back into his pocket, and waved at everyone to pick up their stuff.

It was a beautiful day by all accounts, McCree thought as he led his small but dedicated Spanish class out towards the largely empty field. Nice day for ridin’. Nice day for shootin’. Even better day for kickin’ ass. The sun was a coupla minutes off noon, and that put McCree in an extra good mood. 

“Alright _pendejos_ take seat and keep workin’.” McCree waved at the grass, but his eyes were fixed on a tall, broad man with a profile like a Greek statue watching 8th Graders do burpees. His hand twitched by habit to his hip, but this weren’t that serious. No guns required. After a long few seconds of staring, Mr Anagnos seemed to feel the prickle on the back of his neck and turned to glance behind him. McCree paused to show that yes, his gaze was intentional, then began a slow saunter across the grass. 

“Kimba, take a break.” He drawled when he was in earshot, and crossed his arms.  
“Marcos!” Kimba’s pained exercise face broke into a grin when she saw him, and she ran over.  
“Kim – “  
“In fact, all o’ yer take a break.” McCree rode over Mr Anagnos with his Spin Class instructor voice (Gabe had ‘fallen ill’ for several of those classes specifically, nominated McCree as class leader, then recorded it), and turned his steely eye on the rest of the class, who faltered, then stopped. He handed his phone to Kimba, and hoped she read the instructions he’d typed on it.  
“I’m their teacher, and they do as I say. Keep going!” Mr Anagnos barked. Hm. Greek accent. McCree weren’t too keen on Greece, given his last visit t’ Ilios. The class just looked at McCree, who shook his head. They knew who the alpha cowboy here was.

“Who the hell do you think you are coming into my class, and telling my students what to do?” Mr Anagnos glared when he figured he weren’t getting’ anywhere, and marched over. He was a big boy, McCree’d give him that, but McCree had also got wrestlin’ lessons from Reinhardt. If this baby was goin’ for intimidation, he certainly wasn’t tall enough, muscular enough, or naked enough to throw McCree.

“Hey, Thirsty Jésus.” McCree called over his shoulder where he could see the kid and several of his classmates sneaking over to watch. “What’s Spanish for misogynist?”  
“Uhh…”  
“Ooh, I know this one!” Kimba jumped in. “ _Un misógino!_ ”  
“Correct. Hows about idiot?” McCree kept his eyes locked with Mr Anagnos, who was goin’ a redder shade per second.  
“ _Pendejo_.” All of the present students recited. It was the word they all knew best.  
“So if I said: _Señor Anagnos, usted es un pendejo misógino que no puede leer_ , what would I be sayin’?” McCree waited for a moment.  
“Mr Anagnos…you are a misogynistic idiot who… can’t read?” One of the A-graders, Camila, translated, then covered her mouth and tried not to laugh.  
“Bingo.”

“That little girl is lying to get out of my class!” Mr Anagnos shouted, and pointed a finger at Kimba, who had McCree’s phone clasped against her chest. McCree just took a slow step forward, so that there was only a foot or two of space between them and that he was nice and planted in front of Kimba.  
“You got my note. Yer a bad teacher, and a pathetic man. Yer class don’t respect you, and I don’t neither.” With that, McCree did his finishing move, and spat at the man’s feet. “Come on Kimba – and any of the rest of y’all who want a free period.”

He waved at the gym class, then turned his back to walk away.  
_“You – “_  
_“Marcos!”_ Kimba yelped at the same time Mr Anagnos snarled. But McCree was an architect, not a victim. With one easy lean to the left, Mr Anagnos’ swipe missed him, and he almost stumbled into the thirsty Spanish students.  
“Mmm, was that attempted assault there, teach?” McCree drawled, raised an eyebrow at the man, and kept walking past. “If you got half a brain, you’ll git on back inside. Maybe I won’t kick up a fuss.”  
“I’m reporting you.” Mr Anagnos snarled behind him. “You have no authority!”

McCree didn’t care, so he just kept walking. If Mr Anagnos was goin’ the bureaucracy route, on this map there be dragons.  
“Mr Sierra-Kubo, what grade do I have to get for you to spit on me?” Thirsty Jésus was a weird one, for sure. Certainly more bold than Kimba’s friend.  
“An A+,” McCree put his toothpick back between his teeth, but before Thirsty Jésus could jump for joy, he continued. “in college. Now get on back to studyin’.”  
“Oh my gods, we’re being corralled by the cowboy!” Thirsty Jésus’s friends giggled, and received a dark side-eye which sent em scamperin. McCree’s eye powers at high noon weren’t to be taken lightly.

“Thank you so much, Marcos! And that was scary.” Kimba glanced back at where Mr Anagnos’ broad back was retreating towards the gym. Wow. One punch bein’ thrown was really that scary for civilians, huh? “But does this mean I can’t take gym anymore? I really like it with other teachers.”  
She ducked her head a little.

“Well now Kimba, if you know me, you’ll know one thing.” He held his hand out for his phone, which she handed back.  
“What?”  
“I’ve always got an ace up my sleeve.” McCree exchanged his phone for a spare Ace of Hearts he always had up there. Then he gave her a quick pat on the back, a ghost of a wink, and strode off towards his troublesome _pendejos_. He didn’t see Kimba stop, stare at the card for a moment, then hug it against her chest with a smile. 

***

McCree had just gone to snag his lunch to eat on patrol, when another teacher he’d seen around but hadn’t interacted with much kinda crept up to him. As if she were kinda nervous. Had somethin’ about him and that Greek got out already? Then again, if Hanzo pinned him down to be arrogant, McCree doubted Mr Anagnos would talk about himself gettin’ made a fool of.  
“Sonoda-sensei, ain’t it?” McCree held out a friendly, gloved hand.  
“Please, everyone calls me Hattie.” She took the hand with a smile, which seemed a little put on. She wanted somethin’, McCree felt.  
“What can I do you for today?” He didn’t want t’ rush out, but he felt a little exposed not watching the kids. Then again, Hanzo was on security. That made his mind itch a little less.

“You’re Marcos, right?” She smiled as he nodded. “I just wondered how you knew the owner of the Jasmine Vine café, Sierra-Kubo-san. I saw you sitting with him the other day.”  
“Why? He ain’t bin rude to you has he? I’ll have him apologize if ya want.” McCree didn’t miss how Hattie gaped for a moment, totally unaware that Hanzo had presented himself as a Yakuza boss, and that McCree had just presented himself as someone who could make a Yakuza boss apologize.  
“No, no, he’s been very, very…lovely. Just lovely.” She was sweatin’. McCree narrowed his eyes. That didn’t sound like Hanzo. Was she investigating them?  
“Well I’m his husband,” McCree pulled off his glove, and wiggled his shiny, annoying gold band. “if that answers yer question.”

Best to give her a bone rather than let her dig for answers if she really were lookin’ into them.  
“His husband? And you teach at the school?” Her voice went up a pitch. Well, if she was an undercover agent, she was shit. McCree had no idea that he had now illustrated himself as ‘mob wife’.  
“Yeah…are you alright there?” He frowned, unable to quite get a handle on what was goin’ on here.  
“Yes, yes I’m fine.” She threw on a breezy smile, and gave him a low bow. “Thank you so much for your time. I did not mean to pry!”  
And then she hurried on her way. What in the tarnation?  
Wait a minute.

If she wasn’t an agent (jury out on that), and was acting scared and weird about Hanzo, then…  
“Oh that infernal lickspittle.” McCree spat, and strode out of the staff room. By the time he’d reached a vantage point over the Lucioball court, where the kids were watching a senior game, he had Hanzo on speed-dial.

“What is it, husband?” Hanzo sighed, as if bored, into the phone.  
“Did you _blackmail_ a teacher?” McCree hissed. He couldn’t believe it. Just when he thought he was warmin’ up to the man last night, Hanzo had gone and been a rash idiot again.  
“Oh, you met Sonoda-chan.” Hanzo remarked, and McCree’s eyebrows shot up at how cool he sounded.  
“This could compromise our entire… _marriage_.” McCree spat out the codeword for ‘mission’.  
“She recognized the…unusual background of my tattoo, so I had to act.” 

What had Hanzo been doing? Strippin’ down at the PTA? Now the image of Hanzo undressing on a table to saxophone music while middle aged moms and dads waved bills at him was in McCree’s head. Regret.mp4. Or was it? McCree just shook his head to distract himself from _that._

“Social or specific?” McCree tried to ask ‘Yakuza, or dragons specifically’ in the most covert way possible. Because so help him, if she’d recognized his dragons…they might actually have t’ off her.  
“Social.” Hanzo still sounded far too relaxed about this, but that made McCree breathe a little easier. “Besides, she has been very useful, for business and for power in the school. I am relying on my relationship with her for our little plan to succeed.”  
“You’ve got so lost in the ‘now’ and yer plans, y’ain’t lookin’ at the bigger picture. You push her too far, and we’re gone.” McCree seethed. “Just don’t let anyone else get a sense of yer…past, else I’ll plant an idiot tree by puttin’ you in the ground.”  
And he hung up. By the red dust devils, that stupid sexy man just made him so _angry._

***

“I am so honoured that you accepted my invitation.” Hanzo swanned, as he led Principal Fonseca off down the hallway to the PTA meeting room for the Friday session, a tray of Bini’s best dessert cakes in one hand. He may be an assertive social presence, but from many experiences in life he had learned how to kiss ass when needed.  
“Well, if you have news that the Board should hear, as a Representative, I would be happy to relay it.” Principal Fonseca smiled. “You have become quite the talk, you know. With your new café, your new additions to the staff room and meeting rooms…”  
“Just trying to do my bit as part of the community.” Hanzo shot her the same two-faced smile every PTA mom wore before he realized it. Oh no. He would have to watch himself. He was becoming One of Them.

“Oh, Hideki, you’re here!” Sandra clapped her hands, and most of the other members joined in apart from the poisonous cloud named Linda that lurked by Sandra’s shoulder. “Thank you so much for the coffee machines and hot water zip!”  
She gestured at the newly installed, shiny commodities in the kitchen area. Bribed to perfection.  
“Well it just makes my day to see everyone so happy.” He kissed Sandra once on both cheeks, and left her a tittering, blushing mess. Seduced under his thumb. “And I have some more wonderful news, but I shall save that for the meeting.”  
He tapped his nose, and went to drop off the baking.

“Oh, Hideki, are those _omnic made?_ ” Linda immediately zeroed in on him, and tutted. “Perhaps not as dedicated as we thought.”  
“Free from my café.” Hanzo shot back, with an equally positive but underhanded tone.  
“Oh, not hand-made like mine then.” Linda proffered a plate of thick brownies. “Fresh before I come, in fact!”  
“Oh yes, Linda certainly makes the best home-baking. Her wholegrain pasta is the best thing in this world!” One of Linda’s teacher friends, Marsha the Digital Arts teacher, Hanzo believed, nodded. He could not be too openly hostile or competitive and risk dislike from this faction.  
“Perhaps you shouldn’t even try.” Linda scoffed. Was that a challenge? McCree’s voice echoed _idiot tree_ in his mind, but Hanzo inwardly rolled his eyes. It was only baking.

“Well if you insist I exhibit my baking skills, I shall. I was merely attempting humility.” Hanzo lied completely. He had some skill in mocha and other basic, traditional Japanese foods, however Americans liked treats packed with sugar, salt, or sometimes both at the same time. Whatever he could make would not be favoured here.  
“We shall see next time.” Linda tilted her chin in a challenge, and so help him, Hanzo nodded in acceptance.

“Well let’s get this meeting started, shall we! Don’t want to keep our principal waiting.” Sandra clapped her hands, and Hanzo sauntered off to take his place between an already nervous-looking Sonoda-chan, and a grumpy looking Mr Anagnos. The eye of the storm, as it were.

“First of all, I believe Hideki has some news?”  
“Indeed.” Hanzo clasped his hands on the table in the Business Power Clasp. “First of all I would like to bring to attention the fact that although I have only been in this school community for a week, it already feels like a family.”  
A Yakuza family. Where he would gain power with money, seduction, and crushing obstacles in his way.  
“I feel like we could all say that.” Linda beamed viciously, but Hanzo simply nodded in agreement.  
“However, it saddens me to see the arts so underfunded.”  
Hanzo could not help but notice that Kimba travelled to the most backwater classes to play her harmonica, and that there were never enough studios. The art areas too, both physical and digital looked like they could do with renovations.

“It’s not as if we haven’t tried for grant from the Board.” Marsha interrupted; a sore point for her and the other arts teachers, and Hanzo knew it.  
“Hideki, if this is a request for more arts funding from the Board, I have already submitted a request recently.” Principal Fonseca held up a hand. “It’s not something we like to bring up – like the ghost.”  
The what now?  
“There are no such thing as ghosts.” Sandra scoffed, the first assertive thing Hanzo had heard from her.  
“I’ve seen her! At night!” Dave the English teacher actually stood up. Hanzo felt they were getting a little off-topic here.  
“See?” Principal Fonseca motioned at Dave to sit down. He did so with a glare. “So if that is your request, I am afraid I must deny it.”

Linda looked smug at his rejection, but she had the wrong idea entirely.  
“I did not intend to submit a request.” Hanzo turned to look at the Treasury representative. “I intend to make a donation. Your school holds the future of our children, and enables my business to thrive; I wish to return some of that income back into the community. Will three hundred thousand suffice, for now?”

It was an investment, but by the gasps from around the table, a good one. Social status was a simple game to Hanzo (not to mention a fun one), and he was in this to win this.  
“Yes, yes it will!” Marsha leaped in, as did several other parents and teachers.  
“After a week? You’re going that far?” Linda huffed, and crossed her arms.  
“What don’t tell me you’re protesting to Hideki funding us!” Marsha cut her off, and Hanzo shot her a polite but curious smile. Pick your battles wisely, Linda of the PTA.  
“No, no, of course not. I’m just curious why.”

“Oh isn’t it obvious Linda? He’s such a generous gentleman, it’s just in his nature!” Sandra gestured at the new coffee machines. Now Hanzo did not even have to defend himself anymore. The beauty of bribery and self-presentation. Linda saw she was backed into a corner, gave a tight smile, and conceded. Win to Hanzo.

“If you didn’t invite me for this, although as a school, we very much appreciate your donation, why did you ask me to come?” Principal Fonseca rested her chin on her hands, and Hanzo sighed. Down to real business then.  
“It has come to my attention that a member of staff is not only detestable of character, but also detrimental to learning, and actively threatening staff members.” Hanzo drew himself up to his most commanding, which made one of the PTA dads whimper. Ah. They had a beta male or a bottom present. “This man is seated to my right.”

“What?” Mr Anagnos leaned forward eyes wide with surprise. But it was a good act of innocence on his behalf.  
“You have sent my daughter home in tears, you attempted to assault a Spanish teacher, and your misogynistic attitude is repulsive.” Hanzo continued, and scoured the gym teacher with a regal eye.  
“You have no proof.” Mr Anagnos, sat back in his chair, smug.  
“These are very serious accusations, Hideki.” Principal Fonseca interjected as well. “You have our respect and sympathy as a parent, but Theo has been a teacher for a long time. I cannot accept baseless finger-pointing.”  
“My claims are neither baseless, nor without proof.” Hanzo slid his phone on to the table, and brought up a hologram projection of the video McCree had told Kimba to capture.

McCree beckoned at some students behind a very irate-looking Mr Anagnos.  
_“You – “_  
_“Marcos!”_ Kimba, their wonderful camera-girl yelped and, backed up as McCree walked. And there in plain sight, the enraged gym teacher strode forward and aimed a fist at McCree’s cowboy hat. Lowkey mood, Hanzo thought mildly to himself over the shocked sounds from the other teachers. McCree, of course, dodged the swing with ease, but that was enough. Hanzo stopped the video in the silent room.

“I withheld this from police because I did not want to besmirch the good name of this school. Blows to the back of the head can be fatal. However, I will release it if nothing is done.” Hanzo turned on Mr Anagnos with a steely eye. It was a bluff of course; him going to the police in itself was an insane risk, but with a video featuring Mr Ten Million Dollar Mugshot? That would be ‘idiot tree’ worthy.  
“And there is more besides. Hattie, what did Theo here say to us when we first met. Something about women…”  
Sonoda-chan swallowed, and glanced up at him, then at Mr Anagnos’ fists clenched on the table. Certainly, the gym teacher was, perhaps, imposing to a civilian. But Hanzo was her worst nightmare.

“He said that it was good to have you,” Her voice wavered a little as she chose a side, but she was smart and continued. “because there were too many women around and now something might get something done.”  
“You backbiting bitch!” Mr Anagnos stood so hard his chair flew back. Sonoda-chan flinched, but Hanzo was on his feet the second he made a move towards her. Protection services were part of the loyalty deal; informants and attesting witnesses were taken care of.

“I suggest you sit down or leave.” Hanzo’s tone hit ‘The Dragon of Hanamura’ levels of threat. Mr Anagnos took an unwitting step back, and Hanzo even saw Linda baulk. The bottom in the room possibly fainted.  
“Leave.” Principal Fonseca pointed at the door. “You are suspended effective immediately. The rest of the Board will agree to keeping an attempted felon out of my school, I am sure.”  
“Technically, in this state, what he did is a felon.” Hanzo met Mr Anagnos with an uncompromising expression. “Walk. Or, with the permission of present company, I will remove you from the room.”

“You’ll pay for this.” Mr Anagnos pointed at him, a braver or stupider man than most, then marched around the table, because Hanzo would not let him pass by Sonoda-chan.  
“Please. I’m sure it will not even cut into my budget.” Hanzo watched him storm out, and slam the door loud enough for half the PTA to jump.  
“ _Arigatōgozaimashita_ Sierra-Kubo-sama.” Sonoda-chan bowed towards him. He accepted with a small, regal nod, and patted her shoulder with a gloved hand. 

“My apologies for that altercation.” He gave a deep bow towards the principal, then took a seat.  
“That man attempted assault on your husband, and the way he went for Hattie…” Principal Fonseca shook her head. “I’m actually glad to have found out about this. Thank you.”  
“Let me atone for the vacancy in your staff, at least.” Hanzo brought up the CV he had made for Genji during the day as a holographic projection on his phone. “This man comes from the highest of recommendations, and has a great deal of experience with children.”  
As he is a massive man-child himself, Hanzo did not add.

“An omnic?” Sandra looked a little unsure, as did some of the parents. The omnic crisis was over, seriously.  
“A cyborg. He is a great inspiration to disabled youths, especially those with prosthetic limbs.” Hanzo slid over a hard copy of the CV to Principal Fonseca. “If you are in need of considerations, I humbly offer this recommendation.”  
“We weren’t expecting an opening for a gym teacher, and employment contracts would be difficult for stand-ins full time this time of year…” Principal Fonseca rubbed her mouth for a moment, as Sonoda swallowed and glanced at Hanzo. Probably because she believed that now not only two but potentially three people who seemed tied to the Yakuza may now have footholds in the school. Four, if she counted herself. So far, she had made a wonderful accomplice, McCree be damned. That poker player should understand the gamble better.

“…available full time as freelance or contract…” The principal muttered, reading over the CV Hanzo knew was flawless. “I will ask the Chair to give him an interview this weekend, if he is available.”  
Hanzo kept his face neutral, but felt a smile inside. He had not even needed the surplus blackmail material from Genji’s research to accomplish his ends. Oh, it was a pity this was only a school he was manipulating. The possibilities…the power…he liked the taste of this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else see the Danger signs flashing? :P also the ‘idiot tree’ insult rly got to Hanzo lol  
> Sorry if the Spanish or Japanese is wrong, I only have google translate! Please correct me if need be! >.<
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! :D I know a lot of you like the PTA business ;)) and it makes my day! :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	20. Mr Anagnos 2: The Bitchening

It was almost 5.00pm by the time Hanzo made it back to his Mercedes, parked behind his café. The PTA loved to chat about meaningless nonsense when they weren’t being shamelessly manipulated, Hanzo thought. He had been in a good mood after his successes, but after hearing about the exploits of Linda’s dear boy Mason and the benefits of wholegrain pasta for almost an hour, he just wanted to get back to some decent conversation with McCree at home. Decent conversation? He scowled to himself. That man was probably just waiting to jump him with an argument about Sonoda-chan. Then again, at least it would keep him awak – 

Someone was following him. At five o’ clock in broad daylight. An idiot was following him. Hanzo glanced at the reflective windows of his soon-to-be arcade (it was being done up this weekend, supervised by Genji), and rolled his eyes. Really, Mr Anagnos? What a tool. Then, as Hanzo kept a steady, unbothered pace towards his car, he saw the ex-teacher dip a hand into his bulky jacket. Gun alert. Alright. Hanzo was done with this bastard. 

He darted to the side with the speed of someone trained to be a ninja from the age they could walk, snatched Mr Anagnos’ hand out of the air before he’d even finished his draw (seriously, McCree would have shot three times by now), and yanked it behind his back with a sick snap. In a second, Mr Anagnos had had his gun disarmed, his arm dislocated, and his body slammed up against a pristine Mercedes.

“As I said,” Hanzo remarked over Mr Anagnos’ whimpering, but his tone was cold. “it did not even cut into my budget.”  
“Get the hell off me!” Mr Anagnos shouted, then cried out as Hanzo ground his dislocated arm a little.  
“Theo Anagnos. Address: 49 Knowles Crescent. Grew up in Livadia, Greece with three sisters. Moved here age 20. No family in the country to miss you.” Hanzo moved to the man’s fingers. “Current criminal record: Disorderly drunk, verbal assault, assault, …shall I go on?”  
“Who the hell – agh!” Mr Anagnos struggled, so Hanzo snapped his pinky. 

“I am a bad man,” Hanzo leaned down and growled in his ear. “in a bad mood. Go to a hospital. Say you took a nasty fall. Then get out of my city. I know where you live. I know every scungy safehouse to which you might run. You upset my daughter and tried to kill me. This is your first warning. I do not give second chances. Disappear, or I will make you disappear. Do you understand me?”  
He moved on to Mr Anagnos’ ring finger, and gave it a squeeze. The ex-teacher went absolutely limp, and panted like a pained dog.  
“Yes, yes please don’t…”

Hanzo pulled a spare tracker out of his suit pocket, and stuck it to the inside of the man’s belt as he jerked him off the car by it. If Mr Anagnos disobeyed him or tried to go to the police, he would know and he would stay true to his word. The fish would be very well fed this week.

“This isn’t fair!” Mr Anagnos sniffed, then burst into tears. Oh goody. A wet blanket.  
“It’s only fair that if you try to kill me, I will try to kill you.” Hanzo said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Now pull yourself together.”  
He gave the tall Greek a light slap on the cheek, which made the man look even more miserable.  
“My mother always said I was a disappointment, and my father hated me because I wouldn’t go into the army,” Mr Anagnos sobbed as he clutched his limp arm. Oh by the dragons. Hanzo rolled his eyes. Now, after an hour of PTA parents comparing wholegrain pasta cooking techniques (extra Virgin Olive oil is a must!), Hanzo had to listen to some sob story.

“All my sisters fought in the omnic crisis, but I was too young. They always called me the runt, and – and – “  
“And so you decided to be a dick to children as well? And pick on women because of some internalized grudge?” Hanzo glared as Mr Anagnos nodded and ugly cried.  
“P-please don’t make me leave. I j-j-just got a house I l-like, and I w-want to talk to m-my neighbour because they makes s-such nice rose hedges b-b-but they’re far too good f-f-for me…”  
Hanzo dragged a hand over his face. What the shit. Breaking someone’s fingers had never been this much bother before.

“I – “ Hanzo tried to say, but Mr Anagnos just began to bawl, so Hanzo gave him a full-bodied bitch slap this time. Dealing with crying wasn’t his forte, and this man was, in a word their crude Australian teammate Junkrat might use, a cunt.

“Pull yourself together you moron.” Hanzo hissed, and Mr Anagnos slumped against the car, possibly dazed, possibly going catatonic. “Do you really want to stay?”  
“Please!” Mr Anagnos slipped off the car, on to his knees. Hanzo rolled his eyes so hard he thought he saw his honourable father facepalming at this scene from On High, and lifted Mr Anagnos’ limp form up by the front of the shirt with one massive arm.  
“Then you will improve yourself. You will humble yourself. You will work for me starting at $7 an hour, and dedicate every fibre of your being to pleasing me.” Hanzo glared down at him, and Mr Anagnos’ eyebrows dipped a little in confusion. Then his eyes dropped to stare in a very inappropriate way at Hanzo’s third dragon.

“Pleasing…you? I mean yes, of cour – ”  
“Alright, that sounded a little strange.” Hanzo admitted, but still glared. “I am married. But you are weak and disrespectful, and if you cannot right yourself, I will submit your attempt on my life and the attempted assault on my husband to the police and have you imprisoned.”

Hanzo pointed at his own café security camera that Mr Anagnos had attacked him directly beneath. The idiocy of this man continued to grow the more he was present. Mr Anagnos simply whimpered, so Hanzo dropped him, pocketed the man’s shitty gun for future disposal, and pulled out his phone.  
“ZEEP? Yes. You said you were willing to do anything? Wonderful. Bring Marie.” Hanzo finished his conversation, then crouched down beside Mr Anagnos, who did not deserve the respectful title. Hanzo would call him Theo-chan from now on.

“Theo-chan. My employees will escort you to hospital. After you are patched up, your first job is to be personal assistant my wonderful butcher Marie.” He narrowed his eyes, as Theo sniffed in the dust. “You will follow her every order as if it were mine. And if you try anything, you will find her as competent as I am, except she favours knives. Other than that, she is a good woman. You will learn, or…”  
Hanzo rose, and stepped on the man’s broken finger with shoes so expensive that he should be paying Hanzo to touch them. Theo-chan just moaned, and leaked some more.

“Sierra-Kubo-san?” ZEEP approached from behind Hanzo, with Marie by their side.  
“We have a new waiter.” Hanzo squatted down, and dragged Theo-chan upright by the shirt collar to pass him to ZEEP. Now he could transfer at least one of their current staff to the arcade. “Marie, meet your new assistant. He will do anything you wish, and will help you with tasks at home also. I believe your garden is in need of maintenance after your…time away.”

He referred to her jail time in the usual way any criminal who was being respectful would do.  
“Oh, you don’t have to – “ The heavy-set woman almost seemed overwhelmed, but Hanzo cast a dark eye on Theo-chan.  
“I want to!” Theo-chan pretty much begged. “It would be my…”  
He choked a little, so Hanzo raised an eyebrow.  
“Absolute pleasure.” The ex-teacher managed out.

“If he is good, treat him accordingly. But he has an undesirable temperament at times. If he acts up deal with him as you would a security incident.” Hanzo shrugged. Theo would learn to cool his temper or get stabbed. But Marie was oddly kind for liking knives so much. If Theo started crying again, he would probably find himself wrapped up in a blankie with a plate of cookies. Which is why he had assigned this wet noodle to Marie instead of Miss Jeong, who would probably just collect his tears to see if they improved the flavour of tea.

“But for now take him to the hospital; he has had an accident. Keep a close eye on him, and keep me updated on his recovery.” Hanzo just handed them their overtime from the thick stack of bills he had on him at all times to look incredibly rich and powerful, and watched them drag the sad Greek to Marie’s car. Well that had been weird. Hanzo shook his head and strolled off to secure that footage.

***

It had been 30 minutes since Hanzo’s text that he’d left the PTA meeting. It took him 20 minutes to get back in rush hour traffic. That left 10 minutes of absentee Hanzo, McCree thought to himself. He tried not to pace in the kitchen where the kids were finally helping with dinner. Hanzo was a big boy. A big, muscular boy. He could look after himself. But McCree was his pard’ner… McCree gave in, and had just opened his text chat with Hanzo when the door bleeped open. There he was, Crimeface McSuit himself, with not a hair out of place. McCree crossed his arms, and leaned against the countertop as he watched Hanzo take his shoes off.  
“Ooh, I sense big bang energy here. You want us to leave while you – “ Toshiro made a crude gesture with his hips.  
“Ugh, don’t be weird ‘Shiro!” Kimba threw an onion at him before McCree could. He liked that gal.

“Yer late.” McCree didn’t let off his glare, to show he was still pissed that Hanzo had blackmailed a teacher. “Didja get mugged or somethin’?”  
“Yes, actually.” Hanzo placed his bow-briefcase down with care beside their bookshelf, and that shut McCree up for a second.  
“Aw, they could have at least invited me along.” Toshiro commented sardonically from his carrot chopping station.  
“Please. The only thing you could mug is coffee.” Hanzo turned back and McCree repressed a groan. Who knew Hanzo could pun as well as Genji?

“I should mug you for that.” He rolled his eyes. “Are the muggers – “  
“At large?” Kimba at least had the decency to look a little worried.  
“- alive?” McCree finished, and received raised eyebrows from the kids. Whoops, they didn’t know Hanzo was a cryptid spree killer.

“What? I seen how he picked y’all up like empty soda cans. You think he wouldn’t yeet a mugger into oncoming traffic if he were mad enough?” McCree gestured at this prime cut of Japan in front of them. Hanzo blinked a few times, regal composure lost for just a split second. McCree suddenly got the feeling he’d hit a bullseye for Hanzo flattery. What? Just because McCree could appreciate the raw physical power of a man didn’t mean he wanted to slather him in chocolate sauce and lick it off. Wow. Where in the tarnation had his stupid brain pulled that one from?

“Er, well yes. He is alive.” Hanzo leaned on the couch back, and quickly recovered his imperial airs as McCree tried not to imagine his tiddies slathered in chocolate sauce. “It was your gym teacher in fact, Kimba.”  
“Mr Anagnos?”  
“Hm. He is suspended, by the way, and now, after a short hospital visit, he will be employed in my café.” Hanzo picked at a pristine buffed, filed nail. “Feel free to treat him as you like.”  
McCree pulled himself out of chocolate Hanzo hell, and frowned. What?  
“Why did you employ him?” Kimba looked a little unsure as well.  
“He needs to be taught a lesson. He needs a firm hand. He will go through hell and emerge remade.” Hanzo would make great friends with Gabe, McCree thought. Also Hanzo sayin’ things like ‘lesson’ and ‘firm hand’ in that assertive tone were makin’ McCree a little weak. Damn this man.

“I have already taught him a lesson with some broken bones, and stepping on him.”  
“Why’d you step on him?” McCree felt that was an odd one to add to the conversation, even if it had happened.  
“Because I wanted to.”  
“You got it on film?”  
“Yes, why?”  
“No reason.” McCree lied, because watching that tall, brash man get made a bitch out of by Hanzo was somethin’ he woulda paid to see. Hanzo breaking bones and stepping on a man was up there with Things That McCree Found Sexy But Shouldn’t. Then again, McCree would have also liked to step on Mr Anagnos. He wondered if that came under Hanzo’s ‘feel free to treat him as you like’ policy.

Hanzo suddenly strode towards McCree, who was still trying to picture the scene, and trapped him against the kitchen island with one hand placed further over than where McCree’s metal hand rested. Before he could try and figure out what this was, Hanzo stood up on his tip toes, body _full up_ against McCree’s and cupped his other hand over McCree’s ear.  
“If you want him gone, I can still frame him for drug possession.” This madman whispered as Kimba groaned ‘oh my gods’ behind them.  
“I, er – “ McCree tried to breathe again as Hanzo pulled away.  
“Think about it.” Hanzo looked him up and down with bedroom eyes if McCree had ever seem ‘em, and then, with a flirty little smile, Hanzo swept upstairs like a filly in heat.

McCree felt like he’d been punched in the gut. _Where had that come from?!?!_ Had Hanzo just been acting so as not to make the kids suspicious? Was he _flirtin’?_ Dangnamit, McCree hadn’t even got to confront him about Hattie. Had that been Hanzo’s intent as well? Probably, knowin’ him.

“He liked it when you called him strong.” Kimba offered a slightly dazed McCree, as he just stood, staring like an idiot at the stairs.  
“Yeah, and that bastard likes nothing and no-one.” Toshiro stabbed his knife into the board beside a stack of chopped veges. “Done.”  
“If you wanna go upstairs, we have headphones.” Kimba shrugged as Toshiro pulled a face. “What? They need to bone!”

“Ok, this officially got too weird. Let’s just get back to dinner.” McCree dragged a hand over his face. He was not chasin’ Hanzo. And even if he were tempted, he wasn’t even sure whether that’d been put on or not as a cover. Then again, bangin’ would be a good cover to talk about Hanzo’s bad blackmail habits, but he wasn’t in a good…state if Hanzo came at him with the eyelashes and the full-body space invasion again. 

***

McCree decided to bring up the Hattie debacle after his first shift on watch that night, after all that had cooled down.  
“Hanzo.” He climbed into bed beside the man, poked him, and batted away the usual throat punch that Hanzo threw in his direction.  
“What?” Hanzo grumped, and turned over towards him, eyes still closed in the darkness that McCree willed himself to see through.  
“We gotta talk about yer filthy blackmailin’.” McCree lay on his side with his arms crossed, and stared at the half-awake ninja.  
“What else was I supposed to do, Jesse?” Hanzo mumbled, and the shock of his first name in Hanzo’s sleepy voice struck something in McCree’s chest. “She recognized I was a high-ranking Yakuza. I made a mistake showing my tattoo, and I acknowledge it. Blackmail was the only way I could ensure I controlled her.”

McCree gave a tight sigh, still not happy with the situation, but happier that Hanzo at least seemed bothered.  
“I guess.” McCree gazed at the sight of Hanzo’s messy hair and sleep-softened features in the dark. It was true: if Hanzo made mistakes, he made sure he cleaned them up as best as possible. “Yer a prideful man, Hanzo. Don’t let it ruin us.”  
“Hm.” Hanzo said pridefully. Well, what had McCree expected?  
“But yer clever and effective. I trust you on this.” McCree saw Hanzo’s eyes shift open in the dark. They flicked to McCree’s right eye for a moment, but Hanzo didn’t comment on what he saw there.  
“Thank you.” Hanzo looked down again to fix on the mattress space between them. “And I am sorry.”  
There was a moment’s pause where McCree possibly went into shock.  
“Did you just – “  
“Silence.” Hanzo ordered, and closed his eyes again, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“Well that’s that sorted.”McCree rolled on to his back, chest a weird kinda light. It somehow didn’t feel right to stare at the man when Hanzo didn’t know he were lookin’. “I was thinkin’ of takin’ the kids out somewhere tomorrow.”  
“Hm. Tell me where when you decide. I am supervising Genji for the first part of the arcade setup to make sure he won’t blow anything up.” Hanzo flopped on to his face and wrapped his arms around a pillow like the goldarn octopus he was. After a moment, McCree swore he’d gone back to sleep.  
“Hey, it’s your shift, yer snoozin’ barncat!” McCree poked him again.  
“Five minutes.” Hanzo squirmed away, and a smile tugged at McCree’s standard grimace. Well, he’d kinda got used to goin’ to sleep to Hanzo’s breathin’ anyhow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which hanzo gained a minimum wage worker, and Mr Anagnos almost wholeheartedly agreed to be a boytoy to live  
> Things are getting wild, man 8| Also in my life too: had one hell of a fanfic weekend where I got stuck travelling and had to share the only (one) bed *gasp*. Not with a hot dude I had been pining after for 1-52 weeks though so rip lolol
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought ehehe! :D
> 
> I was also thinking about making a twitter to talk to my AO3 readers, since I really like chatting with everyone! Would anyone be interested? :3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	21. ~ <3 Kidnapped by the Concupiscent Cowboy <3 ~

It was only 11.30 and Hanzo already wanted to shoot someone in the head to relax. Genji, so excited with his new job preparations for the school, had only remembered his current job with Hanzo at the last second, and had been late to the arcade prep. By then, the beefy omnic lifters had left, so Hanzo and the little brother gremlin had had to haul everything into place themselves with the help of Bernard the security guard, Marie, and a newly subservient Theo-chan before the next load of equipment came in. 

Luckily they had been able send the café staff back for the brunch and lunch rushes, and Hanzo had done more than his father and given Genji A Responsibility. He’d better keep everything under control and not on fire. If infant Genji messed up his business, Hanzo would have to cut off his robo finger and Zenyatta would come and kill Hanzo in his sleep like he deserved. It was a vaguely tempting thought, however very unrealistic to dream Zenyatta would give him a painless sleep death. 

But that aside, the current moment found Hanzo lost in the middle of nowhere because McCree had decided to take the children to some forsaken park that would probably be better as a location to murder someone than a family outing.

“[Turn left at the spooky abandoned plot, you perfect hunk.]” The Mercedes GPS had unfortunately become stuck on a setting called ‘flirty Japanese’.  
“I have told you, switch to default GPS.” Hanzo sighed as he spied what was unmistakably the ‘spooky abandoned plot’; an overgrown patch of shack ruins between pastures.  
“[No~]” The GPS said in a very sultry tone, and Hanzo rolled his eyes. Damn these advanced AIs. He loosened his tie with one hand, and flipped open some buttons. He was not going to do whatever McCree had planned in nature in a suit this expensive.

“Auto-drive and window tint.” Hanzo ordered. He could get changed before he got there. The only annoying thing was that he had to make sure his tattoo was covered – and on such a hot day too. Ugh. At least his hoodie was expensive and breathable.  
“[What was that, handsome?]” The damn Mercedes flirted.  
“Auto drive and window tint…Merc-chan.” Hanzo said through gritted teeth, and with a happy giggle, the car merrily supplied.

Hanzo had just finished an acrobatic endeavor of medium skill to change into high-riding blue exercise shorts, much to the delight of his car, when the auto-drive pulled up into a car park. Ah, there was McCree’s heinous minivan. Next to…some very classy cars. Not quite as dominatingly expensive as Hanzo’s (or as annoyingly intelligent he guessed), but unexpected for a location chosen by McCree.  
“Hm.” Hanzo made a little approving noise to himself, and unlaced his work shoes in exchange for some speedcross trail runners.

“Lock and arm.” Hanzo zipped his hoodie up only high enough to cover his dragon tiddy, and no more, and breezed out of his amorous Mercedes.  
“[Yes senpai~~~!!]” The car squealed as he slammed the door on it. Or tried to. But to save hinge damage, it hushed shut with automated compression.

“Now where could those three be.” Hanzo strode up the small rise, and stepped over the chainlink fence to see… oh. Now McCree’s intentions were very clear. On the part of the extensive park Hanzo could see were four horse-riders. Horses. Hm. Hanzo really should have seen this coming and stayed to help Genji. 

Just as he was about to unzip a hoodie pocket and take out his phone to text McCree a curt goodbye, a big brown horse thundered at full pelt out of the trees on the far side of the park like something out of a movie chase. Hanzo could literally hear a reckless ‘yeehaw’ from here. And there was McCree with a blazing smile, as he held on to his hat with one hand and the reigns with the other. Oh no. 

Hanzo, up to this point, had had one religious experience: when his dragons had come to him. This felt very similar. He was frozen in place. His heart thudded like the horse hooves. His breath caught as McCree turned in slow motion but also very fast and with incredible skill, and made a beeline straight towards him. It took Hanzo a moment to recover, and then realize that a half ton beast was ploughing directly at him at almost 50km per hour.

“Marcos – ! “ Hanzo shouted, and darted to the side. But just before the mad cowboy could jump the chainlink fence and ride off to freedom (?), he jerked the reigns. Hanzo was left to stare, both scared and horny, as the horse reared up and silhouetted McCree against the high noon sun. His serape and hair danced in the sudden, convenient wind, and the cowboy’s eye flashed with a hint of red above his wicked grin. Oh noooo. If Hanzo had been in one of Genji’s stupid animes right now, his nose would be gushing like a tap.

“Hop on, pard’ner!” McCree reached a gloved hand down as soon as his horse righted itself, and Hanzo blinked back to reality.  
“No. No, I am quite alright.” Hanzo took a step back and crossed his arms.  
“C’mon, the stablehands are after me ‘cause I refused to wear a helmet.” McCree pointed back at the trees, and sure enough, two horses cantered around the corner, crude and slow after the scene McCree had put on.  
“That is your problem, not mine.” Hanzo scowled and eyed the horse. A big, dull, unpredictable and high speed animal. Not something he wished to partake in.

“Yer…yer not afraid of horses, are ya?” McCree raised an eyebrow, seemingly unworried about the nearing stablehands.  
“No!” Hanzo replied far too quickly, then righted himself with a regal lift of his chin. “I just do not see the merit of using the feet of another beast while mine are quite capable.”  
“Yer scared of horses.” McCree said from quite literally his high horse.  
“No. I just…” Hanzo floundered for words. “…have a healthy respect for – “  
“Come on.” McCree said in a humorous, honey tone, and beckoned with his first two fingers. This man in a good mood was too much.  
“I just – “  
“Come on now. Y’ain’t even gotta drive. Just hold on and have fun.” McCree winked. He was doing this on purpose. He had seen Hanzo’s brain smash into a million pieces when he’d put on his cowboy show and was doing this on purpose. Hanzo glared.  
“Fine.” He grabbed McCree’s hand, and vaulted up behind him on this moving deathtrap, more to hide the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks than anything else.  
“Now hold on tight. Hyah!” 

Hanzo used his split second of warning wisely to wrap his arms around McCree’s waist, and then the beast was quite literally spurred into action.  
“Hey, come back! No helmet’s against regulations!” One of their pursuers yelled, and tried to snatch at McCree’s reigns, but he somehow made the horse dance to the side, and then the world turned to a blur. Even though, comparatively, the animal was slow, it felt like riding on top of a bullet train that had gone off the rails and now was at the beck and call of a madman. Hanzo clutched McCree’s waist, breathless and rigid. Any passer by would have seen what looked like the best horseman in the world being grappled from behind by the angriest man in the world, because Hanzo’s fallback was anger, and the more he fell back, the angrier he looked until he hit outright demonic.

“Damn it Marcos!” Hanzo yelled as the horse ploughed back on to a path under the cover of trees. McCree just wheezed, and choked a little bit, because Hanzo’s arms could probably crush a small tree if he squeezed hard enough. And then Hanzo saw where they were headed.  
“Marcos – no, no, don’t you dare – “

The horse lifted off the ground to clear the log this mad cowboy had driven it towards, and Hanzo closed his eyes and clung on for dear life. He was probably skillful enough to jump off this thing. In fact, if this was a car, he probably would have bounded off it with style and panache by now. But the movement was an unfamiliar jostle, his legs were in the wrong place, and unlike a car, it could kick you in the face…

“Hanzo…” McCree gasped, and slowed their speed to a canter as the path became more narrow.  
“What?!” Hanzo barked in his most infuriated tone.  
“Can’t…breathe…” McCree tried to pry Hanzo’s arms away with his metal fingers, but pry he might, Hanzo was not budging until they slowed down.  
“Perish then.” Hanzo hissed in his ear.  
“What? And leave you…on the horse alone?” McCree coughed out, and Hanzo gave a growl of frustration.  
“Fine.” He loosened a smidgen, and McCree groaned as his ribs presumably creaked back into shape.

“That should lose our friends anyway.” This stupid cowboy announced as soon as he recovered, and squinted back into the trees.  
“And we’ve also lost the children as well by the looks of it?” Hanzo sniped in a voice so bitchy he could have won a role in Mean Girls with that single sentence.  
“Well now, I think we may have just…” McCree shifted their heinous furred ride on to a trail that led right, and opened up a view of several more riders, including Toshiro and Kimba. “…found them.”

“Still. You left them alone. And you call me stupid.” Hanzo grumped, extracted his cheek from against McCree’s hole-filled serape, and tried to touch this bastard as little as possible. Which was difficult when McCree’s chap-enhanced ass was smooshed against his junk. Why had he worn such short shorts? Fill your soul with anger, Hanzo. Focus not on the booty. Too late. His cheeks were flushed again. But he just flexed a foot and hoped it went away. Nobody had to see.

“Hey, maybe I’m tryin’ to catch up with your score.” McCree threw a grin over his shoulder, but Hanzo pointedly looked in the other direction to hide his receding blush and his pretty face, which McCree did not deserve right now.  
“Well, if I was a betting man, I would feel confident in placing my money on you to win the prize of king idiot.” Hanzo shot back as McCree slowed them to a walk. Now this was not as bad.  
“You’d lose.” McCree chuckled. Damn his good mood.  
“I will throw you off this animal.” Hanzo tightened his grip again, but he was not on familiar territory. He should not have tried threats.  
“Nah you won’t.” McCree patted his tense forearms, then waved at the two children, who were thankfully fitted with helmets. “C’mon you two! I’ll teach you how to canter.”

“That riding you did was so cool!” Kimba had a huge grin plastered all over her face, and her big brown eyes shone. Toshiro had his eyes on the horse like he could not trust it as far as he could throw it, and Hanzo had to grudgingly admit that the only one with sense here was that boy.  
“Well I know a trick or two.” McCree grinned that stupid, wild grin again, and Hanzo had to flex his fist to try and stop bloodflow to a different area. If he had known McCree looked so good when he was smiling, he would have never agreed to this stupid mission.

“Wow, Hideki looks mad. What did you do? Can you teach me that instead?” Toshiro tried to make his horse move over, but it just flicked an ear. Now that there? That was a horse Hanzo would like to ride.  
“I swept him off his feet, is what I did.” McCree announced with too much pride.  
“More like kidnapped me.” Hanzo growled.  
“I want to ride a horse like that! You’re a real cowboy!” Kimba clapped her hands, and Hanzo felt McCree’s stomach twitch with a huff of laughter. Yes, it was true that sans horse, McCree almost looked so much like a cowboy that it seemed fake.

“Alright, well first you gotta be confident – lead the horse, don’t let it lead you.” McCree waved at Toshiro. “See you don’t look happy with your pard’ner. Relax, and he’ll like yer more. Now hold yer reins away from the saddle – don’t hold onto the horn now, that’s the horse handbreak – and give yer ride a little push with yer heels.”

McCree did so, and their beast started to move again. Then, with a twitch of the reins, McCree circled around to face the children. The way he handled horses was nice to watch. It reminded Hanzo of his own familiarity with a bow; easy as breathing, familiar as an extension of the body. Also unfortunately hot. Hanzo believed there was a phrase ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’, and he now understood its full intent.  
_Are you really falling for this garbage man?_ either his own voice or the voice of his father intoned.  
_Maybe. Superficially._ Hanzo glared as Kimba moved her horse forward, and Toshiro managed it too after a few tries. He did not want to think about how slightly fond his mental usage of ‘garbage man’ was.

“Very good. Now – whoop.” McCree whisked around to look at the trees, which several incensed stablehands burst out of, then gathered up Kimba and Toshiro’s reigns in one hand.  
“I suggest you hold on to something.” Hanzo sighed to the pair of them.  
“Yeah, grab a fistful o’ mane, and I’ll get ya to a canter!” McCree let them have a second, then gave a rather heroic ‘hyah’ again, and off these lumbering animals went.

***

McCree played chase with the stablehands, interspersed with rest periods for riding lessons, until one of them got close enough to threaten him with callin’ the cops for horse hijackin’. And McCree was not about to let Hanzo lose his title of King Idiot by gettin’ himself arrested and Hanzo possibly deported back to Japan.

“Well that was fun.” McCree grinned as Hanzo slid to the ground beside him and gave the smallest sigh of relief. Hanzo was a funny one. He could shoot dragons and run into a tight spot of resurrected Bastion Units (or a similar hell) with no quandaries at all, but throw a horse in his direction? Well, everyone had to have their foils, McCree supposed. And besides, all of Hanzo’s ragin’ had been worth the look on his face when McCree had rode up to him. Dazed, was a mild way of putting it. Maybe Hanzo liked him a bit more than he was puttin’ on. Either that or they both hated each other’s personalities but thought each other were smokin’, and were inevitably gonna anger-bang one day. Cause if McCree had to pin an emotion to that man’s face right now, it’d be bangry.

“That was so much fun! Oh my gods!” Kimba punch the air. “Next you have to teach us how to shoot guns, like in the cowboy films!”  
“Maybe another day.” McCree promised without much intention of keeping it. That was a whole other parentin’ dilemma he’d leave for another time.  
“And then we’d be like ptchoo ptchoo – “ She did finger guns at the air in front of them, and McCree had to fight back tears o’ pride.

“I’m hungry.” Toshiro complained, although McCree’d seen him smile at least once when he got his broody gelding t’ gallop. Yer never forget yer first gallop, that’s for sure.  
“ – I’m going to start saying ‘howdy’. And can I have cowboy boots? Or a hat?” Kimba bounced up and down.  
“Yeah.” McCree choked out. Was this what bein’ a proud father felt like? Must be.

“Oh good. You’ve broken a perfectly good child.” Hanzo commented mildly as he opened the boot of McCree’s minivan to grab their lunch.  
“Yer just jealous ‘cause you can’t be part of our cowboy club.” McCree popped a cigar in his mouth and struck up a light.  
“I wouldn’t say that, the cowboy’s got to ride something.” Toshiro crossed his arms as McCree’s eyebrows near hit his hairline, and he prepared himself to try and stop the kid bein’ smote into atoms by a lightning beast.  
“Hmm.” Hanzo simply shrugged then nodded sagely, and pulled the bag of Subways McCree had bought this morning out of the chilly bin. Huh? Either Hanzo had decided that smiting their mission target weren’t the brightest plan, or…a little coil of somethin’ started in McCree’s gut. Them darn butterflies again.

“Ugh, it’s gross when you agree!” Toshiro threw his head back, and Hanzo just looked supremely smug. Ok, maybe he was just playin’ Toshiro with that. McCree tried not acknowledge that the insecticide known as Disappointment may have killed his butterflies. Served you for hopin’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having way too much fun with these chapter titles :3
> 
> Also if I disappear suddenly, I have been having Laptop Struggles, so yeah D:
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! please leave a comment and tell me what you think!! ^.^b It always makes my day <3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
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	22. Shootin' and Spookin'

McCree hadn’t thought there’d be much drama after lunch. He’d had his horse-ridin’ fun, so wasn’t tempted to steal one again. Kimba and Toshiro seemed t’ be enjoying the sun, even though Toshiro had gone back to playin’ games on his phone, and Kimba was frantically searching for cowgirl attire online while they were walkin’, bless her. And then Hanzo stopped. McCree almost collided with the concrete wall of slutty sportswear that was his fake husband.

“Hideki – oh no.” McCree spotted what Hanzo had his eye on. An archery range on the field they were nearin’, sectioned off by hard light walls. Man, this park was swanky.  
“You had your fun with horses.” Hanzo appraised him with a slight, possibly deserved glare, then set off down the slope.  
“Hey Kimba, ya wanted to shoot somethin’?” McCree gestured at the archery range.  
“Ooh! It’s not a gun, but I’ve never tried archery!” She grinned, and Toshiro rolled his eyes beside her.  
“Stop being so excited about everything. It’s cringey.”  
“Ya boring.” Kimba stuck her tongue out him and bounded down the slope after Hanzo.  
“Give it a go, there ain’t no harm.” McCree shrugged as Toshiro glowered at his sister’s back. “Just don’t try compete with Hideki – “  
“The bastard’s going down.” Toshiro stuffed his phone in his pocket, and marched towards the lanes. Oh boy. McCree took a deep breath and followed them.

“ –so you only go up to 60lbs?”   
McCree found Hanzo bein’ judge and jury to the poor archery teller.  
“Well, that’s quite a significant draw weight – “  
“I’ll hire one.” Hanzo cut him off, and McCree wondered if it was his usual in-built, rude superiority or actual excitement. For sure, McCree’s trigger finger was itchy from not havin’ fired Peacekeeper even in a trainin’ range for a week. The teller put on a work smile that told McCree he was used to snobs like Hanzo, and unhooked the bow from its display bar. The pro archer slid the grip on the curve into his hand as natural as breathin’, then hefted it.  
“Hmm. Wood. A little cumbersome, but not bad. These bowstrings are inferior, however.” Hanzo muttered to himself, then threw some bills at the archery hire person. “The children are weak, so give them 15lbs bows.”  
And then he picked up a handful of arrows and marched off.

“Uh, sir – sir…” The teller waved then looked at McCree. “He gave me $200. It’s only $15 per person.”  
“Just keep the change.” McCree shrugged, but also wondered where in Hanzo’s tiny blue shorts he had stashed that cash. And now he was starin’ at Hanzo’s ass. Well, it was a good ass. And his thighs were no match for Gabe’s but pretty nice too. But dang, those ankles were tiny. Maybe them metal leg things Hanzo usually wore were to stop em snappin’ like twigs. His feet were probably tiny and cute too.  
“Oi, snap out of it weirdo.” Toshiro clicked his fingers in front of his face and received a cowboy glare.  
“Don’t make me tell Sonoda-sensei t’ give you more homework.” McCree chewed his toothpick. She probably would too, bein’ under Hanzo’s thumb and all.  
“Ooh, I’m terrified.” Toshiro rolled his eyes and took the bow he was offered. 

The hard light for three lanes lit up, so McCree took a seat on a park bench behind Hanzo, where he could keep an eye on all of them. Nothin’ to do with the archer booty. Or that real tight, light grey hoodie that McCree could imagine Hanzo ripping out of if he flexed too much. Whelp, we’ve officially gone into ridiculous porn territory, McCree told himself, and kicked back to watch. An instructor came over to Toshiro and Kimba to give em the basics, but when they approached Hanzo, he shot three bullseyes in perfect succession, and asked them who they thought they were. Man, Hanzo really were turning into a suburban mom. McCree was just waiting for him to fling some coupons and request the manager.

The archery course couldn’t compare to Overwatch facilities, but it was still pretty fine. On the highest level, which Hanzo had set, the targets were tiny and moved quickly. McCree had seen Hanzo shoot before, but he’d never _watched._ His movements were all fluid and easy, his face settled into somethin’ neutral and kinda pretty, and McCree could see the tension drop out of him. Watching a master in his field was addictive and also unfortunately very attractive. Every time Hanzo hit one o’ them targets with a _dink_ , he hooked in McCree a little more. It was only when Hanzo glanced over his shoulder that McCree realized he’d been starin’, so he pretended not to look, and Hanzo pretended he hadn’t been glancin’ at him. 

Then the archer loaded three arrows. With one shot, he hit three separate targets. In a blink, he’d reloaded, and shot one arrow after the other which such accuracy, that the second arrow stuck in the plastic nock with a grating noise. Was…was he showing off? For ‘peasant’ McCree? Then Hanzo turned around, swept up a piece of bark about the size of a nickel, from the ground, and offered it to McCree.  
“I need a challenge. Throw this.” He gestured into his alley. McCree nodded, unsure if this was Hanzo flirting or not, but happy to oblige whichever.  
“Ready?” McCree called as Hanzo turned back around and notched an arrow.  
“Throw it without warning.” Hanzo rolled his shoulders, and hoo boy, now that was _flirting._

After a moment or two, McCree chucked the tiny piece of bark. Quick as a cat, Hanzo snapped his bow up, and in the stark blue light of the range, McCree saw it shatter as the arrow hit it. Cooie. That’d be a hard enough shot with a bullet. Hanzo, however, made a noise of disapproval, and McCree closed his open mouth with a click of teeth as the archer turned…and strode over to Toshiro beside him. Oops. McCree hadn’t even noticed how the kids were doin’. 

“You are beginning, so keep your legs and chest facing the same way.” Hanzo gestured at Toshiro’s feet, which had wandered from facin’ right.  
“I don’t need advice from you.” Toshiro sneered, loosed an arrow, and missed.  
“If you want to beat me, then you had better listen.”  
The kid’s expression hardened with determination at that. Hanzo beckoned at Kimba to join them in the same lane, and honestly, Hanzo was kinda admirable when his ‘dad’ side came out. So McCree sat back to happily watch.

“Pull the string back to your ear, both of you.” Hanzo crossed his arms until they both complied. “Now roll your shoulders down.”  
He placed two hands on Toshiro’s shoulders, and moved them lower, so his elbows rested in a more natural position, then did the same to Kimba.  
“Keep your bow arm relaxed, and take your time. Breathe out when you fire.” Hanzo stood back to watch, and McCree eyed them with interest too. This lane was set on the easiest level, with one target around 30ft away. Kimba’s arrow struck the blue ring, third from the outside, and Toshiro’s hit the line between the blue and the red that was only second to bullseye. Kimba gave a resounding _yess_ , but McCree didn’t miss the glint of satisfaction in Toshiro’s eyes.

“Don’t think this makes me like you anymore.” Toshiro said, clearly a little more happy with Hanzo.  
“I am just doing my duty as a good father.” Hanzo replied with the most casual air.  
“First time for everything I suppose.” Toshiro shrugged, but ooh, was that actually a compliment?  
The corner of Hanzo’s mouth twitched up, and then he split back to his own lane. McCree weren’t sure exactly how those two got along, but they did, in their weird little way.

***

Hanzo and Toshiro, McCree was sure, would have shot till their fingers bled. But Kimba got tired, and McCree weren’t sittin’ here till whatever hour these idiots tried to outlast each other, so he threatened to carry em out of there if they didn’t stop. It was nice to see the angry pair enjoyin’ themselves though, and Hanzo was even humming to himself as they made their way back to the carpark near sunset.

“What’s the song?” McCree inquired as he opened the sliding door to the minivan for the kids, and Hanzo disarmed his douchemobile.  
“Ah… it’s called Sora ni Utaeba.” Hanzo looked a little weird, so McCree cracked a grin.  
“What’s it from?”  
“It doesn’t have to be from anything.” Hanzo said a little too defensively. McCree just raised his eyebrows.  
“Boku no Hero Academia, fine.” Hanzo grudgingly admitted, but didn’t lose his mood. “Gengyo’s been using it as a teaching aide and had it on while we worked today.”   
“That’s concerning.” From what McCree had seen of the shonen, the kids got hurt. A lot.   
“Mmm.” Hanzo just raised his eyebrows with a slightly concerned expression. McCree stared at him for a moment. Slutty hoodie Hanzo sort of stared back. Evening crickets chirped. He should say it’d been a nice day today. That Hanzo weren’t so bad. 

“I- “ His brain deserted him like a traitor for Hanzo’s dewy brown eyes. “Well, I better – “   
McCree gestured at his van. Had he been trying to flirt there? Or just be nice? Did he really like Hanzo? Did Hanzo like him? Snakes an’ spiders, this was a mess.  
“Yes, I will follow.” Hanzo nodded in the awkward pause, and opened his car door.  
 _“Daisuki senpai!!!”_  
“Did yer car just tell you it loves ya?” McCree didn’t speak much Japanese, but he’d picked up some things.  
“Oh that. It is disobedient.” Hanzo said by way of explanation, and climbed in, leaving a very confused McCree wondering if he had automobile competition.

“Come on Marcos, if we don’t hurry only the 24/hr clothes shops will be open!” Kimba exclaimed as soon as he got in the driver’s seat.  
“Now don’t you worry.” McCree started the hover van. “I know a good place, and it’ll sure be open.”  
For her enthusiasm, he felt like doin’ something a little special – and hey, he hadn’t visited Bertha in a while. So he started the hover van, and began to whistle ‘Midnight in Montgomery’ as the sun dipped in the sky.

They had only driven for a small while, when Hanzo received a text message from the van in front of him.

Marcos: We’re just gonna stop at a shop here. Come in too if you banana.

Hanzo assumed that meant ‘wanna’ or ‘want to’, and was about to reply when he glanced out the window into the twilight.  
“Merc-chan, are there any shops around here?” Hanzo could only see paddocks. The fences seemed familiar. Had he been here before? But when?  
“[Nope! No shops you hot hunk!]” The car replied, but just as it did Hanzo caught sight of a building. Old. Hanzo could feel it somewhere in him, that this building did not just look old, but its age sat upon and around it like an invisible blanket. The exterior seemed to be weathered wood, with low windows divided by square mullions. A vertical façade rose up to give the image of a wild west house, despite its incongruous placement. A peeling, bleached sign hung on a post beside the door, which read Sanborn Goods Ltd.

“What is that place there?” Hanzo asked, and his breath caught. His gut coiled, and the dragons on his arm stirred. Something was wrong here.  
“[Oh! That is the spooky abandoned plot from before!]” The car announced. Its tone was cheery enough, but sent a chill straight up Hanzo’s spine, and the hair on the back of his neck tingled. Merc-chan was right – that was why he recognized the area. Those ruins _had_ been there. Now, there was a building.  
“Are you certain?” Hanzo swallowed as McCree’s van pulled over.  
“[Yes! I would never lie to you! You are the hottest man in the world!]”  
“Arm and keep the engine running.” Hanzo steeled himself, and opened the door to see McCree just climbing out his van.

“Marcos!” Hanzo jogged over, and spared a glance at the shop. Its wrongness weighed in his throat in a way he could not explain. “That building. I drove past it earlier, and it was not there. It was ruins.”  
McCree shot him a bemused look.  
“Are ya sayin’ that a buildin’ just…popped up?”   
“It may sound crazy,” Hanzo ground his teeth a little. How could he explain what his spirits were channeling? “but it was not there, Marcos. It does not feel right. We should move on.”  
“It’s just a shop, Hideki.” McCree didn’t nearly look as worried as he should be as the two children joined them. “And this is far from a bad neighborhood. Come on.”

With a swish of his serape, that bastard swept off towards the store. Well, if this was something his dragons could sense, Hanzo could not go with his instincts and stay outside. He may be needed. So Hanzo let the children go in front of him, and took up the rearguard.

The door swung open with a creak, and hitched on uneven floorboards. An old smell of sun and sand felt surreal in Hanzo’s nose, and the shop was no less strange. There were no shop-standard ceiling lights – oil lamps sat on shelves, and contrasted the interior between a gold haze and murky shadows. Hanzo did his usual security scan of the area, but noted there were no cameras, no alarm systems (including mandated fire safety) that he could see, only rows of goods on wooden shelves, that varied from shoes, to clothes, to what Hanzo thought may have been non-perishable food at the back. It half reminded Hanzo of rural community shops in Japan that had never been sold out of the family – but even those he had seen had changed to show some modernity.

“Well, if it ain’t my favourite cowboy!” A silver-haired woman in a pale blue dress belted at the waist bustled out, and held her arms open. Although her hair seemed to suggest significant age, the lines on her face did not tell a clear story; from one angle she seemed barely older than a teen, and then the light changed to throw many years in sharp relief.  
“You ain’t met many cowboys, have yer.” McCree embraced her with a familiarity that probably made Hanzo’s face do the thing in anime when it falls completely into shadow except for the eyes.  
“Ooh, you know I met more’n my share.” Bertha cooed, and patted McCree on the chest, then turned to the rest of them. Hanzo tried to school his glare, but it was too late.

“Beggin’ yer pardon m’lord, I didn’t see ya there!” Bertha bowed so low that her long silver hair fell over her shoulders. Hanzo was so suddenly flattered that he forgot to glare. The squirm on his arm calmed a little.  
“Oh. Well, there is no need for that.” Hanzo smoothed down his hoodie in a way that definitely was not preening. But the respect was nice, he supposed.

“You sure know how t’ treat em.” McCree muttered as Bertha rose, and Toshiro scoffed.  
“Ugh, he’s gonna be frickin insufferable.”   
“Oh there’s no need to be jealous, Toshiro-chan.” Hanzo picked a pristine nail. “You are either perfect or you are not me.”  
“And there it is.” Toshiro huffed, but Bertha smiled.  
“Oh my cowboy, are these yours?” She gestured at Toshiro and Kimba who had picked up a cowboy boot from the shelf, and was tracing the design lines.  
“Adopted with thissun.” McCree gestured at Hanzo, and Bertha clapped her hands with delight.  
“You certainly have done well for yourself!”

McCree just gave a huff of almost sardonic laughter that sang of their unorthodox situation, then gestured at Kimba.  
“Kimba here wanted some boots – “  
“And a hat! Or a blanket like he has!” Kimba pointed at McCree’s serape, and the elder put a hand on her shoulder. “Well I’m sure I can fit you for something.”  
“I’ll just grab some cigars n’ leather oil.” McCree, obviously an old hand to this place, wandered over to some shelves.

“I don’t care how much that old lady kisses your ass, I don’t like this place.” Toshiro crossed his arms and glared around when they were alone. “There isn’t even WiFi.”  
“Oi. Respect your elders.” Hanzo snapped, but with only two of them by themselves, the place seemed larger and even more old than ever. “But I agree. Do not wander.”  
For once, Toshiro did as he was told.

In the end, they left with some items for Kimba and McCree, which the cowboy paid for with large silver coins that Hanzo had never seen before. He swore on his dragons, that when they drove off into the purple dusk, that building ceased to be behind them. Later, he would have sworn it was a dream, if not for the hat and boots Kimba had acquired from somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are we sure Hanzo is the biggest cryptid? lol  
> Also happy holidays! Hope y'all are having a good one x)
> 
> Please leave a comment, I love hearin' what you thought n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	23. The Diner From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just play [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWYhEsEeYLc) on repeat for the entire chapter, you’ll understand soon enough

Sunday afternoon, Hanzo was woken by the pitter-patter of summer rain outside. His back was cold, as he’d probably snaked out of the sheets a little, but his chest was warm. So warm. And comfy. And…moving? Hanzo frowned, unsure whether it was leftover movement from a dream he couldn’t remember, when the shift ticked as familiar in his lazy head. Up. Down. Breathing. Oh no. 

Hanzo cracked his eyes open and twitched awake. He was not on a pillow, but facedown on McCree’s pec.  
“Ugh.” Hanzo grunted to himself with annoyance for several reasons. a) the shame of his sleeping body choosing McCree as a toasty rock to lie on. b) the fact that McCree _was_ a toasty rock to lie on, and he wanted to continue. c) he could not continue because his morning wood would probably make McCree slap him with his metal hand. So Hanzo made another sleepy, displeased noise and rolled off the cowboy.

“Mnh.” McCree made a little sad sound. A grabby hand patted around, missed Hanzo, snagged the duvet, and pulled the entire thing up and over him as he turned on his side.  
“Bastard.” Hanzo muttered as he was suddenly left cold without cover, but his heart was not truly in the insult. If this had been the middle of the night, oh Hanzo’s heart would definitely be in it. But he probably had to go and check on the adventures of Genji and the arcade anyway. McCree could look after the little demons for a while. They had a deal that the children could sleep in as long as they liked if they finished their homework by dinnertime. Hanzo did not even care whether they got out of bed to do it. So he slid off the mattress, and headed over to the ensuite for a shower.

“Welcome to the Funzone!” Genji leaped out from behind a gaming machine, and almost got kicked in the throat for his efforts to surprise.  
“We are not calling it the Funzone. Tacky.” Hanzo tutted, and looked around the place. The bowling alley looked spick and span, the LAN area looked spacious and well organized, there were Playstations and Xboxes, as well as VR gaming areas, not to mention the usual simple but addictive machine games.  
“Blissplay Corner!”  
“That’s a brothel you used to visit.”  
“Dragon Arcade!”  
“Too Yakuza.”  
“Gamemania?”  
“Good. Order the signs.” Hanzo nodded. “You have done well.”

Genji put his hands on his hips, and looked around, pride in his posture.  
“All we need to do is playtest it.” Genji sidled closer to him, and Hanzo knew what was coming. “Can I borrow your card?”  
“Have you no money?” Hanzo raised his eyebrows. If his brother could not learn to steal from the Yakuza he killed…  
“You own the place! You’re not losing any money, you rich bastard!” Genji poked him in the ribs, and Hanzo sighed.  
“Fine. But I am not playtesting it. We need children.”  
“And who has children?” Genji circled with his finger, until it pointed at Hanzo. “Invite them down! Ask them to bring their friends! Take McCree out to dinner, Zenyatta and I will watch them!”

“That is a good plan. Kimba has a few friends, and it will help spread popularity.” Hanzo nodded. “But I will not take McCree out to dinner.”  
“Oh but you have to!” Genji happily reached into his massive cargo pockets and whipped out an envelope. Who even used mail anymore?  
With great trepidation, Hanzo opened it. Inside were two pink tickets covered in lovehearts, bubbles, and stars; in other words, probably sent directly from hell.  
“I am not going to this.”

“Welcome!”  
A handful of petals was thrown over himself and McCree as they entered this mistake Genji had made. Everything was red and pink. ‘When You Say Nothing At All’ by Ronan Keating crooned in the background. The tables had lovehearts on them, and only one, big, plush seat apiece. Fake candles made the place have mood lighting, and Hanzo noticed a disco ball ready for use in the centre. So hell was real. He would shoot that ball, then Genji, if it came on. 

“Pfbt.” McCree spat out about six petals that he had somehow inhaled, and pulled a face Hanzo reckoned was an exact replica of his own. “What in the – “  
“This is Cupid’s Corner, where it’s Valentine’s Day all year long!” The waitress in a pink maid’s outfit clapped cheerily.  
“If you hold hands from now until the end of the slow dancing, you get a table all to yourselves!” The maid scrunched her nose in cutesy delight  
“The what.“ Hanzo choked out. He wasn’t sure he could eat here, because at any moment he may throw up.  
“Otherwise there are tables to share with other lovely couples. Some even swing.” She dropped to a ‘naughty’ whisper and Hanzo shot the interior of the restaurant a horrified side eye. 

Past the individual booths and under the dreaded disco ball was a moshpit of middle-aged people feeding each other dipped strawberries from a shared fondue. He could lip-read the pet name ‘boo-boo bear’ from here. No. Nope. Hanzo Shimada had gone into many dens of misery and vice, but that over there? He would _set this place on fire_ before that happened.

“Marcos. You will hold my hand.” He held out his hand as rigidly as possible.  
“Do I hear a _please_ , sugarbunch?” McCree just drawled and chewed his toothpick, as if he did not care. Hanzo just snatched McCree’s hand up, and the cowboy jumped.  
“Whoa there, calm it Pikachu.” Hissed his slightly electrocuted husband. Whoops.  
“You two seem so nervous!” The maid chirped happily. “Nothing like some lovely slow dancing to get those affectionate buds blossoming – and work up an appetite!”  
This Oni of hell turned around and beckoned for them to follow.

“Remind me why we ain’t cuttin’ and runnin’ about now?” McCree cast a dark eye around this pink prison, and Hanzo ground his teeth.  
“Gengyo tipped me that this was a legitimacy test, so that his father in Florida – “ Hanzo referred to Morrison in their usual code. “ – would know that our _postcards_ are telling him all the details about our _marriage_. Apparently, he is familiar with this place, and we must report it accurately.”

McCree choked so hard he spat out his toothpick. Hanzo appraised that the choking lasted a moment too long, so he took the hand that wasn’t clutched in McCree’s for dear life, and karate chopped him in the back.  
“Seriously?” McCree wheezed, then his eyes fixed on the polished wood stage in front of them.  
“Y’ shoulda done that harder and knocked me out.”

Ronan Keating’s ‘When You Say Nothing At All’ was even louder here. In fact, Hanzo had a suspicion that it was on repeat. A fully functioning disco ball bathed the hall in tacky light. Tables surrounded an empty floor. There was a DJ. Well, it was either disassociate so hard he went catatonic or nut up.  
“Marcos. We are hardened by life and battle. We have stared death in the eyes. We have had spirit in the worst of situations.” Hanzo fixed him with a steely gaze, and squeezed his hand. “We grit our teeth and bear this.”

It was already hard enough holding McCree’s hand. Hanzo had not held someone’s hand since he was seven years old. It was an intimate shock, the way McCree’s calloused fingers slotted between his. The way McCree’s thumb pad was warm on the back of his own thumb. McCree just eyed him with an odd look that Hanzo couldn’t quite read. Surprise? Regret? Curiosity?  
“I suppo – “  
“And our 6pmers are here!” A tall, dark man also in a maid’s outfit called into his microphone. “It’s time to get slow…get close…and get those dancing feet on, you amorous lovebirds!”  
Hanzo did his best not to run on to the stage and punch the mouth that had poured those words.

“I’m grittin’ ma teeth Hanzo. If ya can’t beat em, join em.” McCree squared his shoulders, then took a deep breath. Hanzo shot McCree the most perturbed expression of his life, then squinted at the disgusting, intimate rabble they were surrounded by. Join?? _Them???_  
“My dearly beloved, would you so kindly grace this cowboy with a dance?” McCree’s voice went into something low and possibly prohibited in front of children, and he tipped his hat. Wh. Why had he done that? McCree had to know by now that being too overly cowboy made Hanzo’s brain collapse.

“…yes.” Hanzo wheezed out because his lungs had decided they didn’t exist anymore. Dazed, he found himself being led by the hand on to the dance floor.  
“Now just…” McCree clamped Hanzo’s arm around his waist, and then cupped Hanzo’s back with his metal hand. They swayed for a moment or two. Or sort of leaned side to side like a pendulum.  
“Relax a little bit. It’s like dancin’ with a woodworkin’ clamp.” McCree gasped out because Hanzo’s arms had decided that crushing whatever they were in contact with was a good strategy for dealing with the situation.

“Ok.” Hanzo relaxed a little into, dare he think it, McCree’s arms. This was stupid. He slept next to the man. Even on the man. This shouldn’t be weirder. But McCree didn’t hold him when they slept, and was only asleep near him for a few hours a night. Even when they did wake up slightly on top of each other it was by accident! This was… _purposeful hand holding_ and – and _unnecessary closeness!_ By the dragons, Hanzo hoped his blush had distortion camouflage from the disco ball. Maybe that thing did have its uses after all.  
“A liiiittle more…” McCree wheezed, and gave him an awkward pat. Fine. So Hanzo went ‘all in’ as this poker bastard would say, breathed out to relax himself, and laid his head on McCree’s chest. Think positives, Hanzo. It was a nice chest. Very warm. Warm rock to lie on.  
Meanwhile, McCree felt Chosen, like when a horse leans into you with its head.

“Now smush in real close, and tell your partner their prettiest feature!” The maid man was pushing his luck, Hanzo felt. McCree’s prettiest feature was probably his Venus dimples, said an absent thought that wandered through Hanzo’s head. _No_. McCree wasn’t _pretty_. Well, he was more handsome. _Stop it._  
“Honeycakes, yer crushin’ again.” McCree strained, and wedged his metal thumb in between them somewhat.  
“Apologies. I am unused to dancing.” Hanzo gave a huff, and relaxed again.

“You two over there!” The DJ pointed, and a spotlight lit up a couple on the other side of the room.  
“Well I think her prettiest feature is, of course, her smile!” A woman said into a mic their host maid proffered, and some people at the tables clapped. If she came over here, Hanzo was going to bite her.  
“And I just love her laugh! It’s the prettiest I’ve ever heard!” The other woman in the couple said. Ugh. Pure. Gross.

The music continued for another little stretch, and Hanzo continued to hide his glare in McCree’s serape. It was…a little nice, being held. But Hanzo didn’t know what to do with ‘nice’. Enjoyment? Sober and without being vaguely criminal? Unrealistic. Rejected. And then McCree leaned his cheek against Hanzo’s temple. Oh. _Uhh._ Scandalous! Slap? No…nice. Warm. Hanzo was apparently so flustered that he’d regressed into Dragon Brain.  
“Now snuggle up to your honey-boo and tell them what you’d miss most about them if they went away!” The DJ called over Hanzo’s crisis. “Those two fellas look cute as a button! Let’s hear from them!”

If Hanzo’s brain had been working, he might have ninja rolled off the stage, bounded across the restaurant tables, up the dividing wall, and into the vents in time to avoid the spotlight. But there would be no such escapes today. Miss maid swept over with a little too much relish.

“Well I –“ McCree tensed up a little as his fake-cheerful voice stumbled a little, obviously caught off-guard. “I -I guess I’d miss how witty this one is. Keeps me on m’ toes, for sure.”  
McCree would miss Hanzo being a bitch? Then again, Hanzo supposed he would miss McCree’s lively bitching too. But he couldn’t say the same thing. 

Hanzo’s mind raced as he tried to come up with something. If their mission got called off tomorrow, what would he miss? The mic got turned to him, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.  
“I would miss his company.” The thought hit Hanzo like a mad scientific gorilla, over the adoring coos from the other couples. He would go back to eating alone. Watching his trashy shows alone. Sleeping alone. McCree would go back to his usual collection of people. No more poker or singing or stupid surprise horseriding… They would have no reason to interact. The thought ate an empty hole in Hanzo’s chest. 

***

“Your seat!” The maid waitress gestured happily after they’d gone through the gauntlet of the dreaded slow dance. And she weren’t lyin’. At the couples table they had won through their Endurance Handholding, there was just one seat.  
“And, er…” McCree raised an eyebrow. They both couldn’t fit on that. Gabe’s thighs alone couldn’ta fit on that singular chair, even though it was quite large.  
“We let our customers experience true intimacy by sitting on each other’s laps while they eat!” Their waitress/host for the night clasped her hands beside her cheeks in excitement.

What kinda crazy people had designed this place? What kinda crazy people _liked_ this?  
“Uhhh…” McCree side-eyed Hanzo, who was still a little ticked off from the slow dancin’ ordeal by the looks of it: flushed and glarin’. Then again, that hall had been warm, so maybe he was just glarin’. But he might actually snap and drag this whole place down into a dragon vortex if McCree asked to sit on him. The archer looked between them both, gave a sharp huff, then took the seat.

“Sit.” He ordered and tapped one of his spread thighs. McCree wondered if he could take a quick snap of Hanzo sittin’ like a king on a throne, pattin’ his lap for McCree t’ leap on like some cowboy stripper. But his common sense got the better of him, so with a schooled expression, he perched on Hanzo’s leg, and slung an arm around his shoulders to hang on to something. Still, McCree felt like some kinda escort as Hanzo put a hand on his hip to steady him in a well-practised kinda way. Then again, with Hanzo’s history, this ganglord might be used t’ havin’ hoes on his lap. Did you just call yerself a hoe? McCree thought. Would Hanzo slip a fresh fifty into his belt if all went well? Hey now stop that Jesse. He chewed the scar inside his cheek and focussed on the message engraved in gold script on the table that read: You say it best when you say ‘I love you’.  
That’d kill this weird mood he was in. That’d kill any mood.

“Should we…order food?” Hanzo raised a sullen eyebrow at the waitress, who seemed to be lookin’ at them with an air of anticipation.  
“Oh, you missed that on your ticket?” She beamed and held her hand out, so McCree handed her his ticket whilst tryin’ to move his ass on Hanzo’s thigh as little as possible.  
“See – but I’m sure such a cute couple like you two won’t mind!” She pointed at some text in a heart-shaped bubble: Massage your sweetie-pie for a menu! 

After all these years, McCree shoulda learned to read the fine print. And he was gonna have a very weird conversation with Morrison when they got back if Genji was right about that battle-worn soldier, who had only ever dated Gothface McSkull that he knew of, bein’ familiar with this place.  
“Uhh, I don’t really know – “ McCree broke off with a little helpless sound he would swear up and down he never made, as Hanzo put the hand that weren’t rested on his hip under McCree’s serape and smoothed his thumb right into a good spot in his shoulder. Well now he really did feel like a hoe.  
“Oh well just look at you two!” The maid beamed at Hanzo’s deadpan, very done expression. “I’ll get your menus right away!”

“Sorry. Sometimes I can be too firm. But the faster we do what they want, the faster we can leave.” Hanzo muttered, and massaged his fingers into McCree’s neck a little lighter while his thumb still did some kinda witchcraft on McCree’s shoulder. He’d never had a massage before, and golly was that... _somethin’._  
“Nah, you’re fine.” Why was Hanzo still doin’ it? The waitress couldn’t see from over there, could she? Not that McCree was complainin’.  
“But you squeaked.”  
How dare.  
“I did not _squeak_. It was just…unexpected, is all.” McCree gritted, to stop more noises that were _not_ squeaks as Hanzo added his other hand.  
“I can stop, if you are uncomfortable.”

If anythin’ McCree was a little _too_ comfortable with this. He swallowed, and tried to pretend he weren’t feelin’ suddenly quite warm. Hanzo weren’t the only one worried that they were ‘too firm’ here.  
“You can stop if ya like.”  
“I asked you.”  
Around they went in goddamn idiot circle as Ronan Keating continued in the background for the fifth time.  
“I mean, you got some skill there.” McCree felt like a criminal confessing under some kinda torture as his cheeks heated.  
“So you do not want me to stop?” Hanzo seemed unbothered. Confused, maybe. He was the confusin’ one! See-sawin’ between prickly and cuddly all evening!  
“I – “  
“Your menus!”

Saved by the goldarn waitress. Hanzo stopped one of his magical hands to take his menu, and returned the other to McCree’s hip. By the red desert, McCree was tempted to ask for more, but knowin’ Hanzo he a) didn’t give out freebies and b) charged more than McCree could afford for non-freebies.  
“Now all of these dishes are shared. Isn’t it delightful? It’s recommended that you feed each other!” Or not saved by the waitress.

“Well,” McCree read in a withering tone, “we got soup with one spoon,”  
“No.” Hanzo wrinkled his nose, and McCree wasn’t even offended. That was nasty even with a fella you were datin’. That went well below eatin’ ass at _least._  
“Spaghetti Bolognese with one fork,” McCree continued, “somethin’ called Aphrodisiac Lobster with one _tiny_ fork…”  
“Do any of them have two utensils?” Hanzo sighed in a mighty tired kinda way as he flipped open his own menu with one hand and rested it on McCree’s knees.  
“Well the ice cream in a cone’s got no utensils.”  
“That is not strange.”  
“But you gotta share it.”  
“I take it back.”  
“You can also opt to eat off each other!” The waitress chimed in with a cheery smile. “There are private rooms out the back for that!”

Just what in the heck audience was this restaurant aimed at?? Also, that may have triggered the chocolate sauce Hanzo tiddies vision again. McCree sighed. Why.  
“No thank you, and we will get the salmon.” Hanzo snapped his menu shut, and McCree raised an eyebrow at his assumption of authority here. “It seems the least…messy. And is a good protein food.”  
“Alright. I’m on board with that.” Lucky McCree liked salmon.  
“Oh, the Sexy Salmon Supreme?” The waitress hummed happily, and McCree bit his lip tryin’ not to snigger at Hanzo’s irritated expression. “It’s a great aphrodisiac. You two are going to have a wonderful night!”

“These people are very personal.” Hanzo sat back with an irritated huff as the waitress hurried off. “What are you smirking at?”  
“Just tryin’ to imagine you sayin’ Sexy Salmon Supreme in yer usual dulcet tones.” McCree gave up and let himself snicker at the thought, despite the glare he got. “And y’know, I’m startin’ to think this is some weird kinda food-kink club.”  
“I wish I could dispute that.” Hanzo tapped McCree’s belt strap with an absent finger, and an almost awkward silence fell between them as Hanzo looked around.

Somethin’ weird was up with him. A discomfort McCree couldn’t quite put his finger on. When they’d slow-danced, for the first bit, Hanzo had almost acted like he had when faced with horses: angry and, uh, squeezy. Was he afraid of McCree or dancin’ for some reason? Maybe he didn’t like actin’ this way with him. But then again, he’d been the one who’d melted against McCree’s chest like a puddle of a man when they’d danced. Hanzo’d also confessed that he’d miss his company – if he was bein’ honest, of course. Hanzo was a great liar, but there’d been somethin’ in his tone that led McCree to believe that maybe it had been at least somewhat truthful.

“Wouldja really miss me if I went away?” McCree crossed his arms, and shot a curious look at Hanzo.  
“I had to say something.” Hanzo replied, haughty as ever, and as slippery as a politician.  
“That didn’t answer my question.” Maybe McCree was pushing. But he was curious. And with Hanzo’s mood swings tonight, hey he might get an honest reply.  
“Why should you care?” Hanzo frowned, but McCree weren’t sure if that confusion was genuine or a defense.  
“Just curious.” McCree said with an air of nonchalance.  
“Then it matters little.”  
Man, the door to Hanzo was either locked or really heavy.  
“Just tryin t’ keep a conversation.” McCree shrugged, and Hanzo scrutinized him for a second, which was kinda intense bein’ perched on his lap, then sighed.

“Perhaps I would miss some things. But certainly not your nagging.” Hanzo shot him a bitchy-lookin’ pout, but McCree wouldn’t have it another way, and cracked a wicked grin.  
“Oh, I’m sorry _husband_ is my sensible side too much for ya?”  
“Hm. You take the ‘wild’ out of wild west. You are just west.” Hanzo tilted his chin in a jaunty kind of way, and McCree’s mouth dropped open a little. That lowblowin’ polecat!  
“If it weren’t for the _marriage_ I’d be showing you a whole lotta wild right now!” McCree poked Hanzo’s chest with a finger, all in good humour though. Hanzo raised his eyebrows, and McCree stopped short, fishin’ for words. Ok, in some ways that coulda sounded a little flirty.

“Ooh, a secret lover!” Their waitress reappeared with a massive plate of salmon. “We love a scandal here at Cupid’s Corner! Free dish if you dish?”  
She waved a coupon in front of Hanzo, whose eyes lit up. Oh no. Noo no.  
“I have a taste for trashy that my CEO husband just can’t satisfy. But my sugarbaby here climbs all over me for less than fifty a visit.” This bastard bounced McCree on his knee as the cowboy gaped. “Now...” 

Hanzo held his hand out for the voucher, which the waitress happily smacked in his rich bitch palm.  
“You bitch!” McCree slapped him. Not too hard (or with his metal hand which could take a horse out), but still nice and solid. The waitress just giggled with a little too much enjoyment, pulled up the custom table so it reached to cover both their legs, then put down their dinner.

“See, he’s a feisty one.” Hanzo looked completely unfazed, even somewhat pleased (he probably liked it rough knowin’ him), and scooped up some salmon on their shared fork. “You know you like it. Now open up.”  
“Not on ma dignity will I do such a thing.”  
“What dignity.” Hanzo deadpanned, and as McCree opened his mouth to reply, pushed the fork in instead. Hanzo was saved from another slap by the cookin’.  
“That ain’t half bad.” McCree stopped, and chewed the crispy skin for a moment. Hanzo just loaded the fork again, and offered it again with a very smug look.  
“Then have another bite, Marcos.” Hanzo all but purred, eyes all sultry. This man’s moods tonight were swingin’ like the sixties. This was confusin’. McCree was confused. But _not_ unhappy. So he grudgingly took the mouthful. Maybe he’d let Hanzo get away with this just once.

Back when McCree had been picked up by Blackwatch, if Gabe had asked him where he saw himself in 15 years, he could never have foreseen this: Being fed panfried salmon by an ex-Yakuza boss who he had just slapped in an all-year Valentine’s Day maid café after a round of slow dancing. What a crazy life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by this horrible sentence I found during fic research: “Salmon live to spawn. What could be a more perfect aphrodisiac than an animal that lives to reproduce?”. 
> 
> You may notice that salmon crops up a lot in my fic. I live vicariously through these characters eating it bc I cannot afford it. T.T
> 
> The arcade is called GameMania because if you say it fast it sounds like Gaymania and that’s about right.
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! \^.^/ Makes my day!
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	24. Tiddy Lore

“ – well pride just turns inta stupidity when ya keep trophies.” McCree gestured at the newest episode of _Crime Time: Worst, Best and Mysterious_. Despite the weird evening at the restaurant, Hanzo might have to say he had enjoyed himself a little.  
“Yes,” Hanzo nodded with agreement, and took a sup of sake. “I have made some good kills, but keeping evidence is simply asking for trouble. Though I did get presented with a head once.”

McCree raised an eyebrow, and Hanzo wondered whether that had been a little too much information.  
“What, in the…business?” McCree pointed at his tattoo, which was partially revealed by a rolled-up shirt sleeve, and a few loose buttons.  
“Mm.” Hanzo nodded – he was in this ship, so he may as well sail it. “She was a little extreme and dearly wanted a promotion.”  
McCree grimaced to show his teeth. “Sounds messy. Like when I fired a canon at someone.”  
“Oh, it was. Wait - ” 

“Marcos!” Kimba came barrelling through the front door with a jingle of tiny spurs, and Hanzo filed that under ‘ _definitely_ discuss later’.  
“What is it _pequeña vaquera?_ ” McCree tipped his head back on the couch to look over it at the doorway, and exposed the long line of his throat. _Bite!_ Something possibly draconian in Hanzo’s head suggested on instinct. Well, it was not completely unreasonable, but Hanzo could not let his mind wander on that path.

“I have to give a test performance for Music tomorrow! I don’t know which song to do, or which one I can do, and I haven’t practised cause I forgot…” She wrung her hands and her voice wavered.  
“Come out on the deck, an’ we’ll sort somethin’.” McCree rose off the couch, and Hanzo paused their show and tried to ignore the sprinkle of disappointment in his belly.  
“Are you sure, it’s kinda late…” Kimba thumbed the edges of her harmonica.  
“Ah, it’s only 7.30. No worries.” McCree snagged his guitar, and led the way towards the screen door. 

“Oi. Doors.” Toshiro smacked the couch beside Hanzo’s head and was pushing his fucking luck. If Genji had done that, Hanzo would have wrapped his ankles around the little shit’s neck and slam dunked him through the coffee table.  
“Homework.” Hanzo held out a hand, and Toshiro groaned, then stumped over to the kitchen island where his school-issued tablet was.  
“I’ve only got like, six questions.”  
“Then you know what to do.” Hanzo shrugged, and started to type up his own ‘homework’ to Morrison.

After 10 minutes, Hanzo was bored, and Toshiro was done. So he released the doors for the night, let the kid go do whatever he wanted, and snuck out the front door. With a silent leap, Hanzo landed atop their fence in a crouch for maximum silhouette drama to see for himself what the music practise was like. McCree and Kimba sat side by side on the deck, framed by golden lamplight and the flicker of night-time insects. A low, dark riff from McCree’s guitar wandered underneath the haunted wail of Kimba’s harmonica, part way into the song it seemed. As Hanzo watched, McCree lilted lyrics to their tune.

“ _I got a shotgun cross my back, and a six gun in my hand_.” He sang in the deep, gravelly tone of a smoker as Kimba played a simple accompaniment. An interesting choice of song to play with a child, Hanzo thought.  
“ _You better get your shot off first, cause I'll kill you where you stand._ ” McCree glanced up, straight at Hanzo, and a cold finger slid down his spine as that red eye glinted in the night. That was…kind of hot.  
“ _And I won't go down without a fight, ‘cause I know I'm gonna die. Hang em high._ ” It was almost as if McCree could see something else as he sang those words. A story for another time, perhaps? More questions for later. 

McCree played a few last notes, then glanced down and waved at Kimba to stop.  
“How’s about you improvise on the vocal line a bit more without me, like before. That’ll show off yer skill to our audience.” He gestured out at Hanzo, who climbed down from his perch, a little disgruntled that he had been spotted by McCree of all people. Then he remembered that the strange man could see in the dark. Hm. So many questions.

“Oh my gods, Hideki! When did you get there?” Kimba jumped, and looked around with wide eyes as if more people might appear from the shadows. Unless Genji was perving, it was highly unlikely.  
“It’s a secret.” Hanzo stalked forward to sit next to McCree.  
“Y’know, he’s a registered cryptid in at least two states.” McCree jerked a thumb in his direction, and Hanzo made a _tch_ noise and gave his arm a light slap. “Now c’mon. There ain’t no scarier audience to practise in fronta than Judgement Jones over here. Give us yer best judgement face Hideki.”

So Hanzo glowered at Kimba with the expression he fondly referred to as Death Dragon: Soul Judgement. He usually made his eyes glow for it, but that might raise some questions.  
“Oh shit.” McCree chewed his cigar mildly as Kimba recoiled with a squeak.  
“Play!” Hanzo ordered, and even McCree snapped to it.

***

“Have you informed our…DJ friend about your singing?” Hanzo lay down on the deck, and hugged himself around the waist in the warm night. It had become too late for Kimba to play, but she was well rehearsed in her songs before she went to bed.  
“I ain’t exactly on his level.” McCree cupped his hand around a match that he brought up to relight the cigar between his teeth. He had very white teeth for a man who smoked as much as he did, Hanzo thought. Either Dr Zeigler was generous to him, or he secretly bleached. Hanzo could not imagine that sight.

“I do not think he would disapprove.” Hanzo frowned at the few stars that struggled through the city smog above.  
“I don’t know.” McCree shrugged. “I ain’t a performer.”  
“You are shy.” Hanzo’s lip twitched up. McCree gave a huff of laughter, and flashed his teeth.  
“Maybe a little.”  
“Hm.” Hanzo smiled. It was almost sweet how the cowboy ducked his head a bit.  
“Whatchoo smirkin’ at, yer horseridin’ champ?” McCree shot at him, but he still had a grin.  
“Pfft. Fine. Now we can both blackmail each other.” Hanzo shrugged, and earned a laugh. It was a nice laugh. One that made Hanzo’s insides melt a little bit, and his chest lighten. 

He had never thought that the dark-eyed cowboy who used to glare at him from the corner of the Overwatch meeting room was shy of his singing. He had never thought that this stranger would sit next to him and watch his favourite shows, or see Hanzo lose his cool faced with a horse. But for some reason that was ok. He trusted the calm, quiet man on his left maybe because he had been forced to, or perhaps because he wanted to. Either way, it was not bad.

“Hey.” McCree puffed a billow of smoke into the night.  
“Mm?” Hanzo glanced over to see McCree’s eye on the sliver of blue his generously unbuttoned shirt showed off.  
“Did the tattoo come first, or the dragons?”  
“Hm.” Hanzo stared up into the sky again, unsure how to answer without revealing too much. But Genji had killed the Shimada line off, and if relations had survived, Hanzo doubted they knew about the dragon process. So why not tell McCree something truthful?  
“The dragons choose you. Then the _irezumi_ is created as a receptacle.” Hanzo drew his shirt neck down a bit, and stroked the tail of his highest dragon. 

McCree took one look at Hanzo, laid out on the deck, stroking his tiddy as he slid down his shirt, and his cigar fell out of his mouth.

Hanzo shot a weird look at the cowboy who had almost spat a cigar on him for some reason.  
“Oop.” McCree picked it back up, and put it back in his mouth. Strange. Filthy.  
“Your eye.” Hanzo moved on from that with a frown, and wondered if he could gain a few answers for what he had shared. “It is not cybernetic.”

McCree just took a long draw of his floor cigar. A coil of curious excitement hit Hanzo’s belly. Sometimes, McCree was inexplicable. And that came from a man who hurled very real spirit dragons into battle. What was he? How had his power come to be?  
“Drank eight D.Va Energy cans in an hour. Didn’t sleep for a month, and saw time at one point I think. Ain’t never been the same.” McCree shrugged in all seriousness. A smile tugged at Hanzo’s lip. Then a grin. And then he could not help but laugh at this stupid cowboy. He missed McCree dropping his cigar again.

“I ain’t never seen you laugh before.” McCree remarked, and there was something odd in his usual grizzly tone, but Hanzo could not pinpoint what.  
“Then perhaps you should make better jokes.” Hanzo sat up, and pulled a smug pout.  
“And he’s back.” The corner of the cowboy’s lip pulled up, and he took another drag. They sat in silence for a while, and Hanzo’s mind wandered. Tomorrow Genji started at the school. It would be good to have an extra set of eyes on the children. There was also another PTA meeting, but Hanzo had played all his cards there – 

“ _Kuso_.” Hanzo swore under his breath. _Linda_. The cooking. Damn.  
“ _Nani?_ ” McCree deadpanned, but Hanzo decided to kick Genji’s ass for that later.  
“Just…another PTA meeting tomorrow.” Hanzo started out. He did not even know how to begin about Linda to McCree.  
“I thought you liked PTA, with all yer powerplay.” McCree blew a smoke ring, and Hanzo flicked a piece of twig through it.  
“I do, but I bet Linda, the ‘matron of the neighbourhood’ who thinks she is so popular because of her _101 wholegrain pasta recipes_ , and inferior soccer son, and her 6am power-walking regime…” Hanzo stopped his rant at the sight of McCree’s single, raised eyebrow, and straightened himself. “Anyway, I bet the snake that I could out-compete her in home baking. Unfortunately I do not think I can.”

“Hoo, she sounds like a wildcat. I could try whip up somethin’.” The cowboy shrugged; a courteous but fruitless gesture.  
“You cannot cook either.”  
McCree just pulled a ‘fair enough’ expression.  
“Well the two of us have proved we ain’t a bad team. I’m sure we’ll come up with somethin’.”  
Hanzo just sighed, mind on the tick.  
“I suppose we shall see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves. Genji is coming. Bets on what the hell these two are gonna bake? ;) Leave a comment to tell me what you thought! :D
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-2AOSIUpUE) is the song McCree was singing ^.^
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	25. It's Otaku Time!!!

“Sports KITAAAA!” 

Toshiro wanted to die. It was enough having Marcos saddle-swaggering around the school. Now apparently uncle Goku taught gym? Toshiro looked at the metal guy in a baggy ‘Save a Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ shirt and even baggier khaki shorts yelling with his fists raised to the ceiling. Even though he liked Goku better than the other two bastards… _really?_ Was he destined to be tormented by having family as teachers? At least Marcos wasn’t his teacher, but now this was personal.  
“My name is Mr Takeshi, but you – “ Goku pointed at the class with great relish, “ – can call me Goku. I am Mr Anagnos’ replacement!”

A few kids raised their hands. Goku did a standing somersault, landed on one knee, and pointed at one of Toshiro’s classmates whose name he didn’t know or care about. A ripple of oooh’s and wows went through the class. Toshiro had to admit that flip had been cool.  
“What is your question Kiri!”  
“Uuh…” Kiri looked a little taken aback by Goku’s enthusiasm and that he already knew her name, but recovered. “Are you an omnic?”  
“Omnics are amazing!” Goku bounced up and punched the air. “But I’m not one. I just trained so hard that my muscles turned to steel!”  
He beast-flexed his metal muscles, which did nothing. But that reply made Toshiro think. If Goku wasn’t an omnic, then he was human with prosthetics – most of his body by the looks of it. Something really bad must have happened to him. Probably why he dodged the question.

“You! James!” Goku marched around the side of the group, and pointed at another student.  
“Like…what happened to the other teacher?”  
“He quit to take his dream job as a waiter – weird but true.” Goku held up a cheerful finger. Goku was either lying or not informed. Toshiro was pretty sure that for making Kimba cry, his dads had somehow forced the man to quit, mug Hideki (understandable), and then pressganged him into a waiter position. How convenient that Hideki’s cousin just happened to be a gym teacher. Toshiro was convinced something weird was going on, but he wasn’t sure what.

Goku surveyed them for a silent moment with his hands on his hips.  
“Ok! Question time over! Time for an educational video!”  
Everyone in the class sighed, and Toshiro thought ‘why not’ and joined them with an eye roll as Goku brought up a big holovid screen from his teaching pad. What was this going to be? The food pyramid, exercise goals, and ‘remember to bring your gym equipment’? Then a high-tempo song began to play, and big Japanese letters flashed on a colourful background, which subtitles translated to _Legend, Power, Go!_

Anime. This was… anime. Goku just hopped down beside Kiri in the front row and hugged his knees in excitement as he hummed along to the tune. Well, Toshiro was not going to say no to watching anime instead of exercising.

20 minutes later, the episode finished. Ohh noo. Toshiro was hooked. A young girl called Shira had just discovered, after the sacrifice of her father, that she was descended from an ancient clan with legendary powers. Her twin had been taken captive by a strange power that was green, and her mother in the underbelly of Japan was the only one with the knowledge she needed.

“See!” Goku bounced to his feet. “You all are Shira! Weak. Running scared through the rubble of your home screaming for help. Crying on the corpse of your father because you could not save him.”  
Toshiro, for one, could not relate to that. If Hideki died, well life was life, and life was good.  
“But that’s where every young hero starts on their journey! The bottom. This is your story!” Goku pointed at all of them, and Toshiro, who generally felt uninspired by everything that wasn’t taunting Hideki, actually felt a little rise. “So, on your feet! We have 40 minutes to get to work.”  
Toshiro glanced about as everyone, like, gingerly rose. This was the weirdest gym class probably everyone had been in.

“Now the first exercise. Follow my lead all of you!” Goku hooked his foot under one of the benches that lined the gym, dragged it closer, then stood on top of it.  
“Tense your hands and arms like this.” Goku pulled his hands to his side, as though he were holding an invisible ball. Confused, Toshiro vaguely mimicked it.  
“Now take a deep breath. Think of everything that makes you angry, all your problems, all your homework, all your teenage angst, and let it go like this.” Goku pulled his arms back a little, then yelled so loud the chick in front of Toshiro squealed.  
“KAAAAA-MEEEEE-HAAAA-MEEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Goku roared and flung his arms out in front of him. Half the class blocked their ears. What the heck.  
“Now you!” He said cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just screamed so loud that the birds outside had probably died of fright. “One…two…three…”

There was a tentative murmur, and Goku tutted and shook his head, one hand on his metal brow.  
“I should have shown you Gohan’s starting point, that’s far more accurate.” He sighed, then straightened, and bounced back down to the ground.  
“Give me a growl! Grrr!” He marched up the front line of the class. “Come on grr!”

“Grr!” One of the girls up the front mimicked, and Goku clapped her on the shoulder.  
“Star student Gemma, A+ is going on your report!”  
“Seriously?” Gemma gaped.  
“Yes, I ain’t no liar. Now grrr!” Goku wove in between them to reach the ‘cool’ students at the back where Toshiro was.  
“The quietest ones are always the most pent up. I know, I’ve been there, I used to glow red like the angst-ridden _tsundere_ I was, so let’s all just growl it out together.” Goku turned on the kid Toshiro hated the most – WhiteKid.png from Japanese. “You! Mason!”

“This is dumb.” He crossed his arms and sneered.  
“You fail the term!” Goku cheerfully announced, and picked up an orange cone from the floor. “Put this on your face and lie on the ground!”  
“W-wait, can I try again?” Snob boy paled as soon as he heard the word ‘fail’. Please say no. Toshiro wanted to see him with the cone of shame on his face.  
“Young heroes have to fight for their second chances.” Goku tossed the cone over his shoulder, but so hard that it flew up to the basketball hoop and scored. “Extra effort from you, or complete failure! Now grrrr!”  
Mason gave the loudest grrr of them all, and everyone else was more enthusiastic too now that the ride or die protocol was engaged. So Toshiro thought why not? If everyone else was…

“Good! GRRRRR!” Goku bounced back to the front of the class and waved with his hands. Toshiro thought of Hideki, and growled louder. That…actually didn’t feel too bad.  
“RAAARGH, one, two, three, RAARGH!” Goku leaned back and shouted at the ceiling with a slightly quieter noise from everyone else. “Again – “  
“RARRRGH!” Toshiro yelled with the rest of the class, then Goku led them twice more. He’d never known screaming at the roof was so…therapeutic.  
“Now, come on!!” Goku leapt back on the bench, and put his hands in the same position as before. 

They Kamehameha-ed so loudly that the gym teacher on the field bolted inside to see if someone was injured. Toshiro just panted, and grinned for the first time in a while. Ok, this was his favourite class now.

***

“Thank you everyone for your review sheets!” Goku waved at the class, as they handed in papers at the end. Apparently, because he was new, they had to fill out opinions on Goku’s teaching. Since Goku was pretty much the only person Toshiro even thought he might like in the entire world apart from Kimba, he could be nice on the anonymous form.  
“I know it totally sucks to have fam as teachers, but I hope it wasn’t too weird!” Goku whispered as he took Toshiro’s folded form.  
“No, uh…you did good.” Toshiro shrugged, and Goku bounced up on to the balls of his feet.  
“Yay! This is so fun! Ooh – homework!” The teacher held up a finger, as if he had forgotten, then swiped something on his tablet. Toshiro’s phone app for school dinged, and he glanced at it in annoyance. Homework for Gym? Then he saw what it was. Their homework was to watch anime. Could every teacher be like this?

As usual, Toshiro’s good mood lasted about 2 minutes – or roughly the amount of time it took him to get back into the vicinity of WhiteGuy.png.  
“Hey, if it isn’t teacher’s pet To _shit_ ro!” The fuckboy sneered as he entered the changing room, and Toshiro sighed inwardly at the sight of the contents of his bag strewn across the gross damp floor. Hooray.  
“Ooh, scathing. Did it take you the whole night to come up with that, or did you pay a nerd to think it up for you?” Toshiro shot back. After living with Hideki for a week, his clapback skills had improved to the point where only pros should challenge him. But still. Couldn’t bitchboy richboy just leave him alone? Life was stupid enough as it was without this pest.  
“I thought of it all by myself.” The asshole looked far too proud for such a tiny accomplishment.  
“Wow, used up your last two braincells, did you?” Toshiro rolled his eyes and ducked to pick his Hiragana notebook.

“Hey!” Someone else interjected, and Toshiro shot a tired glance up as he scraped together the rest of his shit. It looked like White Guy had tried to barge forward, but some little stick with turquoise hair had got in his way.  
“You shouldn’t take your issues out on other people.” The stupid nerd, obviously scared, crossed their tiny arms. Great, that was all he needed. First teacher’s pet, now defended by a weed.  
“Beat it nerd, I don’t need you.” Toshiro scowled, and shoved the kid out of the way to get to his gutted bag on the peg.

“Yeah, you wanna get your ass beat with him?” Bully Brown Hair sneered, and Turquoise Hair opened his mouth in distress at his backfired attempt. The small moral voice that scraped a meagre living in Toshiro’s head complained that he’d been a bit mean. But who cared? These people were all temporary. Still…  
“Don’t fucking agree with me, bitchboy.” Toshiro scowled, shouldered his bag and pushed past that dick too.  
“Hey, I’m not done with you!” White Guy yelled from behind him.  
“Cry me a river!” Toshiro shot back, and stalked out of the changing rooms without even getting changed, which is probably why he managed it out without the cuck following him.

He ground his teeth as he marched across the courtyard towards the main school block. People were moving to their last class of the day, but Toshiro just pushed past them if they didn’t move. He didn’t need teachers giving him pity, he didn’t need nerds trying to stand up for him…if only he could kick that Cardboard Cutout’s ass himself, he wouldn’t even need to walk away.  
“Hey, Shiro, where’re you going?” Kimba trotted up to him on the pavement with the jingle of spurs. Ugh, her new phase was cringey as fuck.

“I’m done with school today, I’m blowing this joint.” Toshiro scowled. He didn’t know where he was gonna go, just that he wanted away.  
“You’re going to go wandering off, aren’t you.” Kimba sighed. “You know it’s stupid, with the family and everythi – “  
“How many years has it not made a single difference?” Toshiro cut her off, and rolled his eyes.  
“Fine, then I’m coming too.” She crossed her arms, and pulled her new cowboy hat down over her curls. Thank goodness she’d abandoned the glorified blanket today, due to the heat.  
“Good. You’re becoming too much of a goody-two-shoes.” Toshiro let his lip pick up a little, as she scoffed and smacked him on the shoulder.

They wandered out the school, and the easy banter with Kimba made him feel a little better. She knew how to cheer him up without making it feel forced. They’d barely made it past Hideki’s café (no way were they going in there), when an older guy in a hoodie called out to them from where he leaned against the concrete side of another shop with his friends.  
“Hey, you kids got a light?” He flicked a cigarette between his fingers, and Toshiro, who was still unfortunately in ‘fuck the rules’ mode, tapped Kimba to get out her lighter that she carried in case they needed to casually burn something.  
“Light for a smoke?” He called back. Getting in with shady street hoodie loiterers felt just daring enough to put him back in good spirits.

“Shiro!” Kimba hissed, but he shrugged.  
“You wanna be like Marcos, don’t you? He smokes. It’s cool.” Toshiro would have to commit seppuku (which Hideki had, possibly in high hopes, taught him how to do in emergency cases of ‘extreme dishonour’) if Marcos ever found out that Toshiro had affiliated him with the word ‘cool’.

“Well…” Kimba eyed the guy and his friends. “I suppose so!”  
“Hey, these kids wanna smoke!” The guy yelled back at the two chicks, who looked amused too.  
“These ain’t cheap, y’know.”  
“Fine.” Toshiro took out his wallet and flipped out a twenty that Hideki had bribed them with at some point, unaware of just how much he resembled Hideki (throwing absurd money at things because he simply didn’t care). The guy’s eyes zeroed in on the bill, and he held out the cigarette with a yellow-toothed grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone gets the opening reference, they get a cookie :3 The kids are in it now :P
> 
> Please leave a comment, and tell me what you thought! :D
> 
> Also, I made that [twitter](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing) I promised ages back lololol! I talk about other fandoms there but all o y'all are welcome of course! :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	26. Papa Dragon Awakens

“Ah, Hattie.” McCree had set off to meander around the area where Toshiro had their end of day classes, given he had a free period, when he saw the other teacher headed towards her next class.  
“Marcos. I hope your day has gone well.” She smiled, and seemed far more relaxed about being blackmailed by a Yakuza boss. Huh.

“Listen, I just wanted t’ say: It ain’t easy t’ get on Hideki’s bad side. He likes to flex a lot but he’s actually – “  
“Oh, I thought about it, and actually, I don’t mind at all!” Hattie beamed, and McCree was left stranded like a horse in a sandstorm for a moment. What?  
“That’s…unexpected.” He finally drawled, and eyed up the woman beside him. Had Hanzo threatened her into smiling or something? Did he have to roast that dragon again?

“Well, he protects me, gives me his spare cash on whims because he likes me, free food at his café… not to mention Takeshi-san is a very good teacher. You are nice as well.” Hattie hugged her papers, happy as a pig in mud. “When I stopped worrying about it and focussed on the benefits, it’s actually been a very good experience for me, especially with self-confidence. Sierra-Kubo-san makes me feel so important. I even stopped Kylie from talking over me today!”  
Oh dagnamit Hanzo. Not only had he blackmailed this fine citizen, he’d _converted her_. McCree felt he should somehow rile Hanzo for that, but he weren’t sure how. It technically wasn’t hurting anyone, was it?

“Alright. But if he asks ya to do anythin’ weird, don’t sweat it.” McCree shrugged, and chewed his toothpick. He was pretty sure ‘weird’ covered just about anything Hanzo might think up.  
“If it pays to help me live on more than just a teacher’s wage, I might consider it. You can tell him that if you like.” Hattie shot him a bright smile. Fuckin’ wow. He had to keep incredulous eyebrows in place. They were dang lucky Hanzo was in Overwatch from lookin’ at this. Released into the wild by himself, that man might be runnin’ a city underground in a month. McCree couldn’t help but feel a little impressed; not only by Hanzo’s business skills, but his sheer leadership qualities. Whoo, that man really was a catch. But also a bastard, McCree sullenly reminded himself. A huge bitch. But hell, would McCree like him if he weren’t?

“You just take o’ yerself.” McCree’s phone bleeped, the trigger noise if either of the kids left the school grounds. Shit. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”  
He speed-dialled Hanzo, and jogged out the nearest door, not fast enough to look suspicious, but enough to ease the sudden burn of alarm. It barely rang once, before Hanzo picked up.  
“I am on it.” Was all he got, but that was all he needed. 

McCree immediately swiped into the tracking program on his phone, and sighed with relief. Toshiro and Kimba had barely made it past Hanzo’s café. In fact, he had probably been watching them on security while they left. McCree was glad Hanzo had set up so well. Even if he were a little shady, he was effective, and McCree sighed as he headed to loiter around the school gate. Hanzo really had him all turned about didn’t he?

If he hadn’t been on an deep cover mission, being crouched on a rooftop watching targets would be a normal Monday afternoon for Hanzo Shimada. But since he was supposed to be a respectable and not weird member of the neighbourhood, it was a small risk. Small, because civilians never looked up. In the middle of the day, while he was in a business suit, it would be less reputable to be seen stalking children on the ground than looking like some strange parkour CEO. It was not just ordinary civilians he had to consider as well. He had not had time to disguise, and if Toshiro and Kimba saw him, they would become suspicious of the coincidence. 

For now, he would simply watch, his bow strapped across his shoulder in its usual bag in case of emergencies. Hanzo could not appear suddenly before them to rebuke their behaviour. That would scream monitoring, which these children should be fairly familiar with. So if he did not interact, he would not be able to say anything to them at home either. 

Toshiro and Kimba stopped at the far side of the stationary shop three places down from Hanzo’s café. So, silent as a shadow, Hanzo leaped across the flat rooves with the dragons at his back, and ducked behind an air conditioning unit. Toshiro and Kimba faced him now, and he heard a delinquent from a small group in the alley below call out to them for a light. Hanzo almost facepalmed as Toshiro asked for a cigarette, but did not, because he couldn’t take his eyes off them. So much for no intervention. No children of the Shimada Patriarch were getting entrapped into substance use. 

“You wanna be like Marcos, don’t you? He smokes. It’s cool.” Toshiro said to Kimba and Hanzo huffed out a long, frustrated breath. Come on Kimba. The smart one. Hanzo prayed to the dragons that intelligence would outweigh her new obsession.  
“Well…I suppose so!” 

That cowboy. Was going. To die. Hanzo gritted his teeth and ran to the other side of the roof. He didn’t really have a good cover story here, so he would just wing it. With a quick clamber down the wall into the alley on the other side, he straightened his waistcoat, and strode back on to the street with the air of someone who had been there the entire time and was heading somewhere. He just _happened_ to look into the next alley as he was walking.

“Oi!” He barked, and stalked into the alleyway with a face like thunder. Kimba jumped and immediately dropped the cigarette she’d been handed.  
“How the heck are you here?” Toshiro exclaimed, but didn’t put the disgusting thing down.  
“You have been inside my café, you know where it is.” Hanzo let that be his explanation, then lifted his glower to the delinquents.

“Hey man, what’s your problem?” The unshaven hoodie man gave Hanzo a sleazy grin. “Let the rich kids have some fun.”  
“Do not speak to me, cur.” Hanzo barked, plucked the cigarette out of Toshiro’s hand and tossed it away. “You two are both coming with me.”  
“Screw – “  
“The fuck did you just call me?” Hoodie man squared up as Toshiro began to protest.  
“Yeah, what’d he call ya Tommy? You should give him a makeover for that.” One of the women beside this Tommy sneered in a thick New York accent.  
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Kimba supplied in a meek voice, and backed up behind Hanzo. She tugged Toshiro along with her, and something struck Hanzo. These children felt safe with him between them and danger. They trusted him to protect them. Oh.  
Something woke up in Hanzo. Something very, very scary.

“Shut up kid.” Tommy snapped and pulled out a switchblade, unaware that he had awoken the awesome power of Papa Dragon.  
“Say that to my children again. I dare you.” Hanzo let them know in his tone that he would take no prisoners, but the idiot came at him anyway. Tommy slashed, Hanzo sidestepped it, caught the wrist and twisted the knife away, then stomped the side of the man’s knee. As predicted, his leg collapsed with a sick pop, and a pained cry.

“Hey!” One of the women ran up to him with raised fists. Hanzo turned, dodged a punch and smacked both her arms out of position so fast that she couldn’t react. With unforgiving force, he kneed her in the solar plexus, then pushed her back at the other woman. Tommy had clambered up, one leg out of commission, but now two of them eyed him with blatant fear while the woman he’d kneed retched. Inferior. So Hanzo straightened out of his fighting stance, fixed them with a death glare, and brought out Reinhardt’s favourite intimidation quote.  
“This is the part where you run away.”  
And they did. Well, limped away.

“Did you just quote Shrek?” Toshiro commented with a raised eyebrow of incredible judgement. So Reinhardt hadn’t just made that up. Hanzo wondered who Shrek was. A famous hero in Germany?  
“Maybe so.” Hanzo crossed his arms, and turned his glare on them.  
“That was incredible!” Kimba clapped, but Hanzo would not let the praise flatter him.

“You are still in trouble.” He glowered and ushered them out of the alley. “What were you thinking skipping school? And smoking? Smoking is an expensive and filthy habit. Never, _ever_ engage in it.”  
“But Marcos does it!” Kimba protested, and dug the man’s grave a little deeper.  
“He is a filthy man.” How dare he be so filthy and yet so attractive.  
“Why’d you even marry him if you hate him so much?” Toshiro bitched, and kicked a stone on the footpath.  
“I needed the green card. And now this handsome and successful man before you is stuck with the trash to convince the USCIS.” Hanzo huffed with a lofty air, and Toshiro gave a loud, derisive snort but didn’t say anything.

In his peripheral vision, Hanzo thought the child looked distracted. So Hanzo looked down upon him like a judgemental dragon until Toshiro noticed. He opened his mouth for a second, then closed it and eyed the ground.  
“How do you fight like that?” Toshiro mumbled, as if embarrassed of his question. Ah. In denial of admiration, was he? Hanzo could have chosen to be snide about it, but Toshiro actually seemed serious.  
“I was trained. And if you do not skip school, perhaps I might train you.” Hanzo cast an eye down on them both.  
“Ok.” Toshiro said simply, which took him by surprise. Usually he had to employ three different types of bribery, threat, and blackmail to get these weevils to co-operate.

“Whoa did you see that!” Kimba suddenly yelped, and pointed toward the school gate. Ah, there was filthy cowboy himself, leaning against the school gate post with one knee bent like a poser.  
“The bane of my existence, yes.” Hanzo sighed with maximum drama. He was not even exaggerating. Lately, he, Japan’s most fearsome man, had been craving to be held in those beefy cowboy arms again. Wishing he could _slow dance_ again. The absolute horror of it.

“No! There was a shadow! Where he was! Like, it looked human, and pointed at me…” Kimba trailed off as she realized both Hanzo and Toshiro were looking at her like she was insane. Unless McCree had some impossibly inherited genetics from Reaper, she was hallucinating.

“You eaten enough today, sis?” Toshiro asked from Hanzo’s left.  
“Yes!” She pouted, and Hanzo scanned McCree again. The full extent of McCree’s cowboy powers, he had to admit, were unknown to himself, but McCree would have let Overwatch know if he could turn into a shadow. They lived in a strange world where that option was actually a fair consideration. But the children did not know this world of monsters existed.  
“Never mind that. You will go with Marcos now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mess with the Big Bitch :3
> 
> Next chapter: the long awaited cooking 8))
> 
> Please leave a comment to tell me what you thought! I always enjoy n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	27. The Great PTA Bake-Off

“Listen, yer father did a good turn for ya, now y’all can do a good turn for him.” McCree propped up a tablet with a video titled ‘Godly Chocolate Chip Cookies’ on it.  
“Ugh, why?” Toshiro rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.  
“’Cause that’s how the world works, kiddo.” McCree gestured at the cupboards that were supplied with general kitchenware. “’Less ya wanna owe Hideki a favour doin’ somethin’ else?”  
“He’ll probably make you shine his shoes or something.” Kimba shrugged. “I’d rather make cookies.”  
“Fine.” Toshiro sighed, and pulled out a mixing bowl.  
“I’ll be watchin’ and helpin’ to make sure ya don’t dump in salt t’ spite him.” McCree called out Toshiro completely, who glowered immediately. Between the three of ‘em and a pro Youtuber, they could fix somethin’ that’d at least impress Linda, McCree hoped.

“Have we got all the ingredients?” Kimba rummaged through the cupboard, and appeared with a bag of chocolate chips.  
“Yeah. Butter’s in the fridge, and by the wild desert bobcats, there’s enough flour in there to fuel a bakery.” McCree didn’t know why they were so well stocked for that, but hey, Hanzo didn’t know how to cook, so perhaps he’d just bought a lot of what he’d thought was necessary.  
“Wonderful.” Toshiro sighed and pulled out a packet from the sizable stash.  
“You kids set that up, I’ll just be a mo.” McCree decided a bathroom break before the actual cooking started was probably the best idea.

As McCree left, Toshiro tore open the flour.  
“Yo.” Toshiro frowned and looked over at Kimba. “Is it normal for flour to be all taped up?”  
“I dunno.” Kimba shrugged. They’d never had to bake from scratch before. “Maybe they do that to stop it leaking everywhere or something. It is real…powdery.”  
“I suppose.” Toshiro shrugged, and yanked a pair of scissors out of the cutlery drawer.

***

It was 3.25, and McCree was not here. Hanzo paced in the hallway near the PTA meeting room, annoyed at how nervous he was. It was only Linda. Only a PTA. But it _wasn’t_. It was the first steps to a bigger empire, and the first steps were _always_ the most important! Just trust in McCree, Hanzo repeated as a mantra in his head. McCree would not be childish and try to set him up for failure. McCree would pull through. He had to trust his mission partner. 

3.26.

Four minutes. He was cutting it short. How long could cookies that took 5 minutes to bake take? Perhaps the after school traffic was proving problematic? Hanzo slid out his phone. Perhaps he should give McCree a call.

“Well that’s a tale an’ a half. Sorry, I just gotta take care of this.” McCree rounded the corner, and Hanzo praised the dragons.  
“Who was that?” Hanzo immediately whisked the tray of cookies off him, and inspected them. They did look good, neither too brown or too light. The smell of chocolate was always nice, but there was something odd going in there, that triggered a memory scent that Hanzo could not quite place.  
“I think I made a new friend.” McCree looked to his left for some reason with a small smile.  
“Alright.” Hanzo would ask about what he thought might have been a phone call later. “How are the cookies?”  
“Pretty good.” McCree shrugged and dragged his teeth in a very unfair way across his bottom lip. “Ain’t like the ones Gabe used t’ make. Maybe the flour was the wrong type or somethin’.”

Hanzo felt as though he had been struck by a lightning bolt.  
“Which. Flour.” Hanzo heard his voice go hoarse, because now that scent was familiar.  
“Ya had, like, a million packets in the cupboard. One o’ them.” McCree shrugged, and Hanzo gaped in horror at the thousands of dollars’ worth of chocolate filled crack that he was holding. He did not even know what happened when you _baked_ cocaine.  
“Marcos,” he lowered his voice to a broken whisper. “that was not flour.”

There was a pause, and Hanzo watched McCree’s squint sort of moved like shadow over his face.  
“No. Don’t you tell me…”  
“Yes. 100% pure.” Hanzo hissed, angry that so much of this quality product had been used.  
“I can’t believe this.”  
“It was an investment!” Hanzo protested, although he was not certain how good that defence was.  
“It’s in the cupboard!” McCree’s voice rose to exasperation.  
“It would be a little suspicious if ‘flour’ was stored in the liquor cabinet!”  
“It shouldn’t be stored in a house with kids at all!”  
“Doesn’t everyone know that you do not bake with the flour at the back of the cupboard?”  
“Yer experiences are _not_ universal!”

Hanzo just closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Who has eaten these?” In other words, how high were their children right now? Then again ingested coke should not be as potent as its usual intake methods.  
“The kids had one each an’ some batter,” McCree listed off. “Genji came round t’ take care of the kids and stole three – “  
“Oh shit.” Hanzo had first-hand experience of coked-up Genji. If anyone thought he was hyperactive _normally…_  
“ – and I had six.” McCree finished, and Hanzo stared at him in horror. “Oh, and I gave Ms Jones one too.”

 _“Six?”_ Hanzo finally exclaimed. Dear dragons on high. High being the operative word.  
“I dunno, they were real good, and I couldn’t stop eatin’ them.” McCree shrugged and played his possibly numb tongue against his mouth toothpick. “I guess that makes sense now.”  
“How the fuck are you not high as balls?” Hanzo whisked off McCree’s hat and grabbed his jaw, to turn his eyes into the light. McCree just let him do it like a docile dog, which was a bit odd.  
“Your pupils are not even dilated!”  
McCree simply put his hat back on.

Maybe he had not digested it yet? But chewing might be similar to gum-rubbing? Hanzo honestly had no clue, because no idiot had ever baked cookies from uncut cocaine before, not even in the wastefully rich circles he had navigated back in the day.

“They don’t seem to have much effect on Ms Jones either, do they?” This inhuman cowboy gestured to his left, and looked at the empty space.  
“McCree, there’s nobody there.” Hanzo said tiredly, very unsure what to do now. He could not give Linda cocaine cookies, simply on taste factor alone.  
“I know, but he can’t see yer.” McCree said to the space on his left, and Hanzo squinted.  
“Are you hallucinating? Cocaine isn’t a hallucinogenic.” Hanzo’s eyebrows dipped in worry; only serious, long-term users suffered from hallucinations, and even those cases were rare.

“She says yer look weird. Like a yella snake.” McCree continued, calm as a cucumber. Hanzo’s worry was hard replaced by affront, and he scowled.  
“Did your bitch of a hallucination just call me a snake?” He huffed. The hair on his arms prickled, and Hanzo swore he felt the air go a little cold. His dragon arm stirred, as if something was waking them up.  
“Hey now, he’s always a bit of a bastard.” McCree said like a gossip. “Don’t let it get to ya. Come on now, I’ll see ya home.”

And with that, McCree turned around and started to wander off. The temperature became normal again, and Hanzo’s dragons grumbled back to snooze. Well, he did not know what had caused the chill, but his dragons did seem to act up around McCree sometimes. That aside, he could not just leave this (possibly?) high man to wander the city, so Hanzo started off after him. It was at that moment Linda rounded the corner with a gaggle of her friends. Shit.

“Hideki! I thought you might not come to this meeting. Most people who challenge me to a bake-off back out because they come to their senses.” She smiled like the slithering servant of Satan that she was, and her friends nodded in agreement. Hanzo schooled his face back to neutral pre-cocaine-panic.  
“I’m fine, go to yer meetin’.” McCree waved, far too relaxed to be on coke.  
“Do not drive, and send me a text every five minutes.” Hanzo barked after him. Maybe whatever McCree was reacted differently to drugs? “And call me if you feel sick!”  
And ‘sick’ in his case may mean going to meet Tracer in a time vortex, with the amount of coke he’d eaten.  
“I hear ya.” McCree did not turn around, but did tip his hat. 

“Sick? What, did he eat some of your cooking?” Linda shot at him, and although she was correct, it was also not the entire story.  
“No, he is just allergic to synthetics.” Hanzo eyed Linda’s cardigan, which he had appraised to be not made of real wool.  
“Oh, you must be living in the past if you still buy real animal products.” Linda huffed, obviously caught off-guard by the petty insult. “How old are you again?”  
“Well, I am not a child, and therefore I know that the real thing is real quality. Cookie?” Hanzo shot back, and proffered his tray. He did not give two shits if Linda hated whatever baked cocaine tasted like, as long as she got high and made a fool of herself in the meeting. He only wished he could charge her for it.

“Hmm.” She cast a very haughty eye on the baked goods. “Cookies are a very safe option. Not complicated at all.”  
“Eat or withdraw.” Hanzo snapped. His stress levels were too high to deal with slow snobbery. Linda extracted a cookie, and took a small, delicate bite, with her teeth bared in a grimace of distaste.  
“Hmm.” She chewed. “Mouth feel is very strange. More like jelly than cookie.”  
So that is what happened when you baked cocaine.  
“That is intentional. It is a trend I thought you may be familiar with.” Hanzo’s father had not wasted is time teaching him smooth recoveries, just as Hanzo had begun to teach the same to Toshiro. The dragon lord of Hanamura could turn anything around to his favour.

Linda chewed some more, and Hanzo wondered if that would effectively rub coke into her gums.  
“These have a very strange aftertaste.” She pulled a face, and honestly, it was a miracle they tasted anything close to good, given the harsh chemical flavour they should be saturated in. Her friends reached for a cookie, and what could Hanzo do to stop them? The ever-recovering criminal shadow in Hanzo’s brain suggested that here he might have some great customers with which to start up dealing, but his employees were too green to help run fronts, and Genji would probably throw down for a fight if Hanzo started it all up again. And Hanzo doubted killing his brother would be any easier the second time around.

“Hmm, they are interesting.” Marsha, the digital arts teacher, mused, with a slight frown on her face. “Really different to yours, Linda, but I kinda like them.”  
“There’s something sour in there.” The other friend nodded. “Lemon?”  
“Yes.” Hanzo lied with his most innocent face.  
“Well, whatever this is, it isn’t a cookie.” Linda glowered, and licked around her gums. Hanzo really hoped these ladies were too law-abiding to have ever tried cocaine before, otherwise he was, as their vulgar Australian friend might say, ‘up shit creek without a dunny roll’.  
“I never specified that they were.” Hanzo raised haughty eyebrows. “They’re called Jelkies. Soon available in my café.”

If Hanzo kept digging this hole, maybe he would hit a goldmine. Cookies with jelly centres sounded interesting. He would have to talk to Bini tomorrow.  
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.” Linda huffed, but took another bite of her cookie. Hanzo was almost tempted to try one out of sheer, baffled curiosity, but he’d had a severe ‘no take, only deal’ policy drilled into him from a very young age.

“The future is now, Linda,” He said in a very sassy tone and may have popped a hip slightly. “get with it.”  
“Your cookies are bad, Hideki. You lose.” She pointed at him with a turquoise fake nail, then swept off towards the PTA meeting room.  
“I like them.” Marsha crinkled her nose in sympathy, and took a second. This meeting was going to be very interesting, Hanzo thought as he waited for them to go ahead and stashed the entire plate under a cabinet for him to pick up afterwards.

Then his phone buzzed.

From: Gengyo  
THESE KIDS ARE FUN

Oh no.

From: Gengyo  
WE’RE GONNA RUN TO THE COAST CATCH ME MOTHAFUCKA

Hanzo could not even get in a response before the next message.

From: Gengyo  
SORRY I CALLED U A MOTHAFUCKA I LOVE U BROOOO~~~

From: Hideki  
For the sake of my marriage, Gengyo, get your metal ass back here before I kick it.

From: Gengyo  
KICK THIS!  
Attachment: fuck_u.jpg

Attached was a selfie of Genji with Kimba, and Toshiro, in which they were all pulling the finger. Thankfully they were still near the house. Hanzo rolled his eyes. This was a lot to deal with. And it was not Hanzo who was best equipped to deal with this. So he found the number of possibly the only person on this green earth who could wrangle a high robot Genji and two buzzed children.

“Zayarvar.” Hanzo called through to Zenyatta’s in-built phone.  
“Ah, Hideki. Is Goku well? I have received some odd messages from him.” Zenyatta sounded like he was already out of the Shambali temple.  
“Please retrieve Gengyo and the children. If possible, pick up Marcos on the way. I am unable to assist currently, however if I am urgently needed, call me.” Keeping up appearances was a large part of the mission also. Hanzo could not suspiciously disappear for no clear reason, especially with Linda’s eager eyes on him. Rumour could ruin men and gods, and Hanzo was a bit of both.

“I have their locations. Fear not, a fellow monk and I shall gather them back.”  
“Hello!” Another cheery-sounding omnic chirped across the communication line. Good. Two Shambali monks. Genji would get the ass-kicking he deserved.  
“You have my thanks.” Hanzo sighed, and ended the call.

***

The meeting was…entertaining, at least.

“Well, it’s nice to see everyone again!” Sandra beamed at everyone.  
“Of course it’s nice to see me! Everyone loves me, Sandra, except for Hideki, who wishes he was me.” Linda tossed her dyed hair, coke-confidence already kicking in it seemed.  
“Shh shh shh, Hideki’s good, he buys us things!” Marsha, who had also been submitted to double the cokie, as Hanzo had decided to call them, patted Linda’s hand. Hanzo just shot them both a wan smile.  
“Oh yes, he’s sooo rich. But who’s going on holiday to Mauritius on Thursday? Not him.” Linda crossed her arms, and tried to look at him with a snobby eye, but came off more as a spoiled child.

“Linda, are you ok? You seem a little… off.” Sandra came up with the understatement of the year.  
“Off? I have never felt better!” Linda exclaimed. After eating cocaine that pure, Hanzo was not surprised. He would have to cut that stuff by a significant percentage if it ever went to market.  
“It was probably my wholegrain pasta lunch! Have I told you about my wholegrain pasta?” Linda slapped her hands on the table. “Long-burning carbs. Excellent nutrition food, with olive oil and fresh salad!”  
“We know about your pasta _Linda_.” Marsha rolled her head back on the chair. “I’m _pasta_ it.”  
Hanzo smirked at the delightful look of sheer offense on Linda’s face and this entire wonderful situation.  
“Anyway,” Sandra continued nervously. “I suppose all the teachers among us met Hideki’s cousin Mr Takeshi today?”

Several of the teachers gave dreamy sighs. Even Sonoda-chan smiled to herself. Damn it Genji, you cyborg whore, Hanzo thought to himself.  
“Oh, what, is he too important to grace us with us presence?” Linda sniffed.  
“Given his occupation and condition, he has a strict fitness routine he must follow daily.” Hanzo said, and hoped none of the neighbours saw the new teacher, high and naked, running around the streets with two children. Then again, he would probably be just a green blur, so Hanzo supposed the worry was unbased. Maybe he would even be added to the cryptid database.

“Oh, and he’s lovely! So energetic and good with the kids.” Sonodo-chan supplied without a prompt, which took Hanzo by surprise. By the dragons, if Genji worked with him, they could rule this city in mere days. Too bad his brother had morals.  
“I have some reviews from his classes to pass to the Board.” Hanzo slipped a folder out of his platinum-tipped laptop/bow briefcase, and handed it to Sandra.

“Oh, so may 5’s!” Sandra cooed at Genji’s scores as she shuffled through them. “ ‘Best teacher I’ve ever had’…’Can’t believe our teacher is a Power Ranger’, oh I loved that show when I was young… ‘Different but good’… Your cousin is such a darling by the sounds of it.”  
“Oh yes, if he’s related to Hideki, he must be _perfect_.” Linda rolled her eyes. “Can he make fresh wholegrain pasta from scratch? I don’t think so!”  
“Penne for your thoughts, Linda?” Marsha slumped on the desk and rolled her eyes harder. “ _Because your thoughts are always about pasta._ ”

As Linda leaped into her prepared speech to defend wholegrain pasta, Hanzo’s eyes flicked to his silenced phone on the tabletop that showed a few notifications.

From: Zayarvar  
I have Goku and the children. Marcos’ whereabouts is unknown.

Hanzo immediately sobered. That meant McCree’s tracking device had been turned off, affected, or had been broken. But underneath was a text from McCree.

From: Marcos  
Just got Ms Jones home. Headin’ back.

Hanzo’s phone lit up. 

From Zayarvar  
He has reappeared. No need to worry.

Perhaps it had been a glitch. They would check his tracker tonight. Hanzo texted back a quick reply to McCree and a thank you to Zenyatta, and decided to enjoy the festivities at the PTA before the inevitable confrontation with McCree (at least) when he got home.

***  
“We need to talk.” McCree and Hanzo said at the same time, and almost crashed into each other as they both tried to get up in each other’s space. McCree glared at the man who’d coked up the kids, and wondered what in the Sam Hill Hanzo’s beef was that could compare.  
“And I need to die.” Genji moaned, facedown on the kitchen island with the children. “Hideki, either execute me or execute yourself but make it quick.”

Hanzo didn’t even have the politeness to look upset at that. Genji slithered off the stool on to the ground like a noodle cat, and began to crawl towards the door, then just gave up and lay there. Four of them stared at him, Kimba and Toshiro while they wetly gnashed their way through Hanzo’s spare café sushi. Luckily, the kids hadn’t eaten as much coke as Genji, and therefore were only hungry and not uber depressed.

“Oh, he just needs a nap.” Zenyatta hummed as he floated back from the room that he’d returned McCree’s emergency lasso rope to, which he’d hogtied Genji with. McCree had to admit, that unassuming monk had weird skills. 

A brilliant golden orb floated from his hand, and Genji just made a happy noise as Zenyatta picked up and tossed the cyborg twunk over his shoulder.  
“I will see you all when our paths cross next.” Zenyatta gave a cheerful wave, then floated past Hanzo, out the door. Genji gave them all a wave, draped over the monk, and the four of them were left alone again.

“He’s great! He actually taught us how to breathe properly while running today! It’s much easier now.” Kimba shovelled another sushi roll into her mouth.  
“Yeah Hideki, how pissed do I have to make you so that you’ll chop off all my limbs and I get turned into a badass cyborg?” Somehow when Toshiro didn’t try, he crossed the biggest line yet. Hanzo just opened his mouth, then closed it, body rigid. Whelp, either Toshiro was about to experience his dream, or Hanzo was about to curl up into an angst ball, and McCree didn’t have time for either.

“Let’s shelve that delightful conversation for another time.” McCree drawled, and grabbed Hanzo’s wrist to snap him out of whatever fratricidal flashbacks were goin’ on in there. “Upstairs. Now.”  
“Ooh, go Marcos! Tell ‘im whose boss!” Kimba cheered, and McCree didn’t miss how she’d mimicked his accent a bit. If he wasn’t so irate, he might be proud.  
“He can tell me whatever he likes, it does not make it true.” Hanzo recovered, and slapped McCree’s hand off his feature watch. “And _what_ are those?”

Hanzo glared at the cowboy ugg boots (complete with spurs) that Kimba had found online for them both. His were red to match his serape. Hers were green to go with her Lucio gear. McCree would treasure them forever.  
“Height o’ fashion, darlin’.” McCree drawled with malicious intent.  
“I will destroy you.”  
“Then do it, chicken.”  
“Can you go do your weird flirting somewhere else? We don’t need any of this.” Toshiro stabbed a crab cake with a single chopstick probably because he knew it would enrage tradition bitch Hanzo. 

“After you.” Hanzo gestured at the stairs, and McCree stalked up them. Before they even reached their bedroom door, McCree whirled on him and jabbed a metal finger in his direction.  
“Get rid of that coke.” He hissed, close enough to Hanzo that even if the children had decided to eavesdrop, they wouldn’t hear a whisper.  
“Get rid of your cigars.” Hanzo shot back, and lifted his chin, so that their faces were inches apart. Goldarn it, why did these arguments always have to end up like this?

“What?” That took McCree by surprise.  
“Kimba and Toshiro almost started smoking today because of your bad example.” Hanzo glared with narrowed eyes. That info stuck at him a bit, but McCree saw what he was doing here. No way was he gettin’ off the hook by turnin’ the argument around.

“I think the bigger problem is gettin’ 14 and 16 years olds coked up because you wanna start a drug cartel. Which, _by the way_ , ain’t happenin’ under my roof.” McCree dismissed how much this sounded like a real domestic argument, and also the fact that he was close enough that he was basically breathin’ Hanzo’s breath.  
“I never intended for it to happen here. Unlike your smoking, which you persist at.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow and McCree almost gaped at the sheer stubbornness of this man insisting that smoking was a bigger crime than potentially running a coke ring.

“You know that havin’ hard drugs in a house ain’t normal, right?” McCree insisted, but Hanzo just scoffed.  
“Come on, everyone has a small investment stash in case of emergencies.” If Hanzo was joking, he had a very good deadpan.  
“No! No they don’t!” McCree realized his voice had risen in his incredulity, so he toned it down.  
“Well, most intelligent people do.”  
This time McCree really did gape. How…was this such a hard concept?  
“That’s about a million spare dollars. Just in case.”  
“Why do you need a million spa – no. Never mind that.” McCree took a breath, and held up a finger for a moment.

“I have quite a network already. If I needed to rely on it, I assure you the whole ordeal would be quite discreet. And I would only sell to corporate recreation seekers. Their pay checks would barely see a dent.” Hanzo looked genuinely considerate, and McCree was actually at a loss. Could he tap in Zenyatta?  
“Listen. How can you not understand that drugs are bad?” McCree tried with mounting frustration.  
“How can you not understand the investment is smart?” Hanzo replied with equal frustration.  
“Ok. We’ve hit a wall here.” McCree just dragged a hand across his face, and leaned back against the corner of the hallway.

“Hm.”  
McCree looked up to see Hanzo wearing what he might call a business pout. It was almost a shock t’ see him thinkin’ instead of smirking victory.  
“I have a proposal.”  
“Oh but darlin’, we’re already so happily married.” McCree said dryly, and actually earned a flash o’ teeth in a smile. Wow. Now that were just playin’ dirty.  
“Clearly.” Hanzo continued, but now he sounded more amused than businesslike. “How about this: I will move my investment out of reach of the woefully uneducated children, say, the attic, while you limit your smoking around them so that their exposure to substance use is minimized.”  
“Yer talkin’ a compromise?” McCree chewed the scar on the inside of his lip thoughtfully. 

It seemed that Hanzo was stubborn to keep his drugs, and McCree was equally stubborn to keep his smokes. Hanzo didn’t have a business degree for nothing, and if they remained uncompromised nothin’ would change for the worse of the kids. Unknown to McCree, Genji would have had a heart attack to have even hear his brother talk compromise.

“I am not known for them, so do not take it lightly.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow, regal as ever, but McCree saw straight through his high ‘n mighty act. Hanzo weren’t a man to do what he didn’t want to do. Which meant he wanted to compromise with McCree and make their differences work. Make _them_ work. Did that mean Hanzo wanted him on the happy side of cooperation? Did that mean Hanzo liked him? Stow it, yer bleedin’ love pigeon, McCree thought to himself, and sighed.

“You’ll tell me if ya start dealin’ though. Don’t want no more unwelcome surprises.” McCree would rather have this be open so he could keep track of this savage Yakuza man rather than be in the dark because he’d made him clam up. Then McCree could alert Genji and they could lasso Hanzo for an intervention.  
“I doubt it will come to that, but if you kindly leave this whole business out of your _postcards_ to _our uncle_ , deal.” Hanzo held out a hand with a probably unintentional cold business smile that gave McCree the chills. The handshake that went with it was far from cold though. McCree almost dared to say on the gentle side of firm. He expected Hanzo’s handshake t’ be as crushin’ as a log from a broke down sawmill, but when Hanzo slid his hand away, he brushed his fingers against McCree’s sensitive palm. That took him by surprise, and made him swallow. Was that on purpose? Hanzo didn’t look phased or – or flirty…

Little the poor cowboy know he’d been hit by the Seduction Shake.  
“Now I am going to teach these children how to kick some ass. Care to join me?” Hanzo offered in his usual decadent way that made you feel like being invited into his presence was a gift. But well, that talk had gone better than expected so McCree couldn’t bring himself to be bitter about Hanzo’s open narcissism. He couldn’t even bring himself to be bitter about how Hanzo was as handsome as he thought himself to be.  
“Sure thing, pard’ner.”  
Hanzo turned to lead the way back down stairs, and McCree missed how pleased he looked at being called ‘pard’ner’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This argument is entirely more funny when you know McCree is wearing red cowboy ugg boots throughout the whole thing. Also the places I had to go to find out what happens when you bake cocaine. I sure am on a watchlist now 8( Don't do coke kids. This is a not-serious fanfic and it is a serious drug 8(
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	28. Lick 'im Into Shape

“How has this got anything to do with fighting?” Toshiro scowled as he stood on the mats Hanzo had got Express Delivered by heavyweight drone into their backyard. McCree had to admit, ridiculous amounts of cash did come in handy sometimes.  
“Falling properly is integral to any fight, especially when you are small and prone to being knocked over.” Hanzo instructed as he paced around the back of the kids, once again in his slutty no shirt fitness hoodie, then gave them both a quick kick in the back of the knees.

“Agh!” Kimba fell with a thump to her knees, and Toshiro landed on all fours with an angry noise.  
“See, how will you easily get up from that?” Hanzo gestured at them both clambering up like old people. “I could grapple you, kick you or, if I was a very nasty opponent, kill you while you floundered. When trained, falling should not be an obstacle, simply a different opportunity. For instance – “  
Hanzo wandered back in front of the kids, and beckoned at McCree, who had decided to watch this whole ordeal from the deck.  
“Throw me.”

“What?” McCree raised an eyebrow, and stopped his casual toothpick chew.  
“Throw me. Come on, do not be scared.” The bastard baited, and McCree rolled his eyes.  
“Oh this makes it all worth it.” Toshiro gloated, as McCree flicked his toothpick away.  
“Like…how d’you wanna be thrown?” McCree could throw a man. He’d thrown many men and women out of bar windows, knew the usual military throws Gabe had drilled in, and had even caught Genji by the foot once and flung him into a river (the river part had been accidental).  
“Can you even lift him?” Kimba wondered, and Hanzo had the gall to look amused. Whelp, if Hanzo wanted to be thrown, McCree would damn well do it.

“Alrighty.” He strode over, grabbed Hanzo’s arm with two hands, stepped into his hip and hurled him halfway across the lawn. Any normal opponent would have yelped at their sudden flight, but Hanzo simply rolled to his feet, used the extra momentum to do some sorta hand-spring ya might see on an Olympic mat to face them, and padded back, not a hair out of place. McCree couldn’t help thinkin’ the way he moved was finer than a frog hair split four ways.

“Can you do that again? No reason.” Toshiro pulled out his phone, which Hanzo slapped out of his hand.  
“No phones in the do – martial arts class.” Hanzo presumably corrected ‘dojo’, and picked up the phone, which he handed to McCree to put on the deck. “But you see – that throw could have incapacitated an inferior fighter. With my recovery, however, I had the option to either return to my opponent or flee – which is almost always the better option if you have nothing to gain from the fight.”

“That – “ McCree pointed at Hanzo. “ – is a very good point. Also yell fer help as loud as possible. Ain’t no cowardice in bein’ smart.”  
“Indeed.” Hanzo shot him a small smile, although McCree knew they were a pair o’ flaming hypocrites. McCree was the kinda man who’d lose an arm and still come up swingin’ the other one, and he felt that Hanzo was the kinda man who, if some god came down to personally fight him, would rip off his shirt and tell ‘em to come catch his bare hands.

“How do you both know how to fight so well?” Kimba frowned at them. “I mean, you’re a Spanish teacher…”  
Ah, time for the cover story to finally get used. They’d come up with a solution to their uncanny training.  
“Everyone’s gotta have hobbies.” McCree shrugged. “Me n’ him met at a Japanese All Styles MA Tournament.”  
“We fought for about quarter of an hour before I won.” Hanzo smirked, and McCree shot him a withering look.  
“Because ya distracted me by askin’ me t’ marry you. Should be against the rules.”  
“So Marcos got, like, a double loss then.” Toshiro commented, but got smacked by Kimba.  
“Shut up, I think it’s cute.”

“Besides, it’s not like Marcos gets nothing out of our arrangement.” Hanzo flicked him a wink like a hooker on nickel night, and McCree swore his whole goldarn body flushed with heat. Damn, did he wish that were true. Despite himself, he was jealous of Marcos for actually gettin’ to tap that in their narrative. Even if it were just bribery. Or rough and angry. _Especially_ if it were rough and angry. Shit, just one wink had him stiff as a rod. He really needed to get round to dealin’ with that, but alone time was dreadful scarce between mindin’ the kids and mindin’ the Hanzo.  
“Ugh, _stop_.” Toshiro ripped up a handful of grass and threw it at them. Never mind grass, a bucket o’ ice water would be better.

***

“Ok, we did, like a hundred punches…” Toshiro panted, and slumped down to the mat with his sister after Hanzo’s drillin’ had finally came to an end. “Can we do something cool now?”  
“If you believe that you can learn some sort of special move outright, such as in a video game, you are uninformed.” Hanzo crossed his arms and peered down upon them. McCree wondered who’d sat him down to watch or play games. D.Va? Genji? The Yakuza? “The basics are all applied in the advanced techniques, or ‘cool stuff’, as you call it. It is like reading. You do not read Shakespeare before you know your letters.”  
“But – “ Hanzo waved McCree over, so the cowboy got up with a sigh and a jingle. “We can show you what you are working towards Besides, it has been a while since we sparred last.”

It had been never since they sparred last. In Overwatch, Hanzo on the mats against another member had been a rare sight. Ana and Zenyatta were the only ones he would fight, and they had once, very nervously, seen Genji get his ass beat. Well, McCree knew he was at least on par with them.  
“Hm.” McCree rolled his shoulders, and stepped up into a fighting stance which Hanzo mimicked.

They circled for a moment. McCree knew Hanzo was fast, but Hanzo had t’ keep a sharp eye on his metal arm if he didn’t want a faceful o’ steel. He also knew Hanzo’d watched ‘em all fight, probably to profile them – and probably had McCree pegged as a boxer/brawler type. Whelp, why not give him what he wanted?

So McCree swung in, and of course Hanzo ducked and went to mangle his arm – but weren’t expectin’ a knee far too near the groin for comfort and twisted just in time to avoid it. Off-balance, Hanzo dropped into a crouch faster than he could blink, and swept his legs out from under him with a low kick. There was a gasp from the kiddos. _Dang he was a fast one!_ McCree sort of admired as he rolled away like tumbleweed. He held his metal arm up as defence as Hanzo pounced on him before he could roll up, and there was a dull _tunk_ as Hanzo hit it, but hopefully reduced the force of his blow at the last second so his fingers didn’t break. 

But McCree’s boots had found dirt, so he sprang up into a lunge to grapple Hanzo’s torso and throw him on his back like big ol’ naked Rein had shown him how to do. McCree found himself straddling Hanzo’s lap, and lookin’ at perty brown eyes wide in shock. Weren’t expectin’ German wrestlin’ were ya? With a mechanical click, McCree’s metal arm snapped around Hanzo’s wrist and pinned it. Unco-operative bounties got, well, _disarmed._

Hanzo’s other hand smacked him in the stomach and knocked the breath out of him with a deep _oof_ , and he felt a knee nudge his family jewels in warning. But he just tapped the KO pressure point under Hanzo’s chin in warning too as he wheezed his tobacco guts out. Hanzo narrowed his eyes. McCree narrowed them back. Did this competitive bastard want things to get glowy out here? Coz McCree was sure that Morrison would have their hides if he heard they’d exploded their civilian backyard with might be loosely referred to as magic.

“For the sake of time, we should end it there.” Hanzo finally said, and tapped him a fraction too hard with that knee. McCree grunted, and decided not to respond with his own petty comeback or they would end up slap-fighting like children.  
“Fine, fine, ya dirty bastard.” McCree grumbled, but his lip turned up a little as he gingerly climbed to his feet. He liked that he’d near-reduced prim and proper Hanzo to bar brawl rules by being almost - maybe even - as good as him.

“Hideki, he beat you!” Kimba pointed, and McCree had never gotten a friendlier look from Toshiro.  
“For a good one percent of the time, he is competent enough to _draw_.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow and did an elegant roll to his feet. Someone weren’t gonna underestimate him next time, were they? McCree thought smugly to himself. He’d have to watch himself if they fought again.

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t lick his attitude inta shape like I can with his a - I'm actually gonna stop there. Slang gone wrong.” Or maybe a bit of a Freudian slip. Karate did give one a good ass.  
“That should be your middle name.” Hanzo seemed back in his good humour then.  
“Yeah, a spar is good fer gettin’ out any anger.” McCree decided not to rile up the dragon too much with teasin’ – he kinda liked it when they agreed. It made him all weirdly and dangerously warm.

“Oh, Uncle Goku already taught us how to do that.” Toshiro shrugged, and Kimba immediately bounced to her feet.  
“Yeah! Do it with me!”  
Toshiro just side-eyed Hanzo, who raised his eyebrows.  
“Gengyo’s anger management techniques? This is would like to see.”  
“Truth.” McCree sat back to watch. Blackwatch Genji’s anger management technique had been murder.  
“Alright, you ready?” Kimba pulled back her arms into a vaguely familiar pose, and Toshiro followed.  
“KAAA-MEE-HAAAAA-MEE-HAAAAAAAA!” Both children yelled at the top of their lungs, and threw their hands forward. McCree bit his lip as he tried not t’ crack up. Damnit Genji. He was really out there livin’, weren’t he? He missed Hanzo’s odd expression as he watched the pair.  
“It’s cool, isn’t it?” Toshiro smiled for the first time in a Coon’s Age. McCree side-eyed Hanzo. Hanzo’s eye twitched.

“I must go and…meditate.” He did a 180 and stalked off. Anime wasn’t that dishonourable, was it? Ah well. Sometimes Hanzo was too prim for his own good.  
“Yeah, good job. Yellin’s a therapeutic thing.” McCree nodded, and pulled a toothpick out to chew. He couldn’t make fun of somethin’ the kids found handy, or they might stop doin’ it. “But now it looks like fight class’s over. Y’all know what comes next.”  
“Ugh. Homework.” Kimba tossed her head back with a groan.  
“Bingo.”

***

McCree had almost finishing prepping dinner by the time Hanzo returned downstairs. The cowboy wondered whether he’d actually needed to meditate or whether it was a sketchy excuse for somethin’ else. Like ringing up Genji, yelling WEEB into the receiver, and hanging up. McCree mused what excuse he could use to get some alone time to clean the proverbial pipes, as it were. Gun maintenance? Then again, if he told Hanzo he was gonna go ‘shine his pistol’ it wasn’t much of a ruse.  
“Welcome back _Tennō Heika_.” McCree said mildly, as he read some instructions on a sauce packet.  
“Shut _up_.” Hanzo snorted, but obviously couldn’t help a smile at that. The butterflies were back goddamn it. McCree tried not to stare at the smile, and turned back to his chopping.

“What are you making?” Hanzo padded into the kitchen, and just started picking up bits of diced veges as if they would tell him. “Stir fry?”  
He ate a piece of carrot, and McCree slapped his hand.

“Yer as bad as the kids. Help or git.” He slid Hanzo a knife, but Fitness Slut turned to look at the TV instead. The couch was just low enough that they could see the screen over the back of it.  
“What are you watching?” Hanzo’s eyebrows furrowed at the TV where McCree had put on some cookin’ show.  
“Uhh, Masterchef I think it’s called. Thought I’d watch cooking while I cook. Saw a good way to chop onions, so it’s helpin’.” McCree shrugged as Hanzo opened the bottle of canola oil on the bench, sniffed it, looked offended, then went to the cupboard and pulled out some other bottle with Korean writing on it instead.

“That better not be shady.” McCree squinted at it, and Hanzo sighed.  
“Sesame oil. Do you think I would keep market LSD in an open oil bottle?”  
“You have - !” McCree broke off as Hanzo chuckled, and pointed.  
“Your face.”  
“Tsh, yer infernal scalawag.” An incredulous grin pulled up the side of McCree’s mouth, and he shook his head. Hanzo’d got him fair and square.  
“You say some odd words sometimes.” Hanzo ate another piece of carrot, so McCree poked him with a metal finger.  
“Go…” He squinted at the article on his tablet, “…fry some spices if yer bored.”

“Hm.” Hanzo eyed the pan, then drizzled some oil in it. McCree’s brain slapped him with other things concernin’ oil and drizzlin’, but he slapped it back. “You need to get your arm checked also.”  
“Oh, why?” McCree knew that meant his tracker, which had been inserted into his metal forearm before they left. Who knew where Hanzo’s was. The only permanent thing he wore was his wedding ring, so maybe it was in there.  
“You disappeared today after you left the PTA.” Hanzo mused, but seemed more distracted by the cooking show. McCree just took the opportunity to admire his very regal profile. Dang those cheekbones were sharp as an icicle on a cacti. “Oh, Wagyu steak. My chef cooked that so much I got bored of it.”

“They said that was like 800 bucks a kilo.” McCree honestly didn’t know why he sounded so surprised.  
“I was a rich bitch.” Hanzo sighed, pulled out a bottle of decidedly rich bitch sake from the liquor cupboard, and poured himself a cupful.  
“Ya still are.” McCree said as he leaned on the kitchen island, but his tone weren’t vicious. More amused. Usually he didn’t go for rich bitches, but he supposed this one had grown on him.

“Mmm.” Hanzo agreed as he drank. It was actually nice to have such a normal, even warm conversation with the man. McCree gave a contented sigh before he caught himself. Was domesticity…getting to him? Oh well. Maybe that weren’t a bad thing.  
“So – “  
“OI! BASTARD DAD!” Toshiro yelled from the kitchen.  
“ _Nanda yo??_ You little shit?” Hanzo yelled back, and McCree pushed himself up to get to work as Toshiro yelled something about Japanese homework.

***

That night when the kids had turned in, McCree sat under the scattered stars, wreathed in comfortable smoke. Today had been a whole basket of ups n’ downs, but in the end it had left him with a light and giddy head – or maybe it’d been Hanzo actually sayin’ goodnight all gentlelike before he went upstairs. McCree didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly Hanzo was becoming more and more viable as someone he could think about seriously, maybe with returned affection. It was almost crazy to think that the haughty bastard might ‘stoop to his level’, but not impossible. And it was crazy to think that McCree was actually sweet on such a rich, self-important prick, but hey, it was happenin’ somehow. 

McCree huffed a little laugh to himself. Whatchoo gonna do with this then, huh? Flirt with him? Cheesy pickup lines? McCree snorted and shook his head. He’d just ride along for now…  
“And if an opportunity comes up…well hey.” McCree’s lip quirked up, and he took another contented drag. But in his distraction, the canny cowboy had failed to read something was terribly wrong with his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally took me like a year to finish this chapter lol :P
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! ❤️ Always love hearin from y'all n.n
> 
> Next time on this Fucking Fic: Some story progression :3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	29. E.V.I.L.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all're gonna hate me :3

“What’s up, dingus?” Yamazaki-san lolled in his chair as his less than helpful friend Tanaka-san picked up and aimed a takoyaki ball in his direction. Mariko sighed. So this was what the highest rung in their regional Yakuza looked like. If whoever had taken down Raiju’s front had known about this disgrace then Mariko doubted their branch would even exist anymore. Or maybe it would be under new management. Who knew, things might be better that way. She had very strong reason to suspect the culprit had been from another Clan/Family or possibly an exile, but either way, she doubted they could do worse than Mr Takoyaki Toss over there.

“I have the report you requested on Raiju.” Mariko pulled up the file and transferred it to his holo-table with a flick. Yamazaki-san had requested a report, so she would give him one. Something that sounded bland with corporate excuses to give her Dutiful Underling Points. Her real report was headed elsewhere.

Yamazaki-san just opened his mouth, and Tanaka-san chucked the takoyaki. It hit his office chair, and landed on the floor with a small squish, but their honourable coordinator just picked it up and ate it anyway. Mariko wondered how easy it would be to untraceably poison someone’s takoyaki. Just inject a small but lethal dose of cyanide. Or maybe order Fugu under his name and bribe the chef. Then she could fake the chef’s death and re-employ them wearing a cosplay wig. Apparently, she had become distracted by her fantasies, because her boss turned to look at her. 

“Ok? What, you admiring the scenery dollface?” Yamazaki-san winked, but badly, almost with both eyes, and Mariko had to restrain herself from pulling a face.  
“That is all. Thank you for your time.” She bowed and strode out the room to leave those two to their very important work. Her office held a much more important meeting.

“Matsumoto _no aniki_. Please accept my humble thanks for overseeing my business in person.” Mariko bowed low in front of her computer, and swallowed with nerves and excitement. The Boss! Wanted to listen to her! Personally!   
“Koike-san, your audacity and case has captured my attention. Do not waste your opportunity.” The Boss said, and Mariko rose, but still kept her eyes lowered.  
“Yamazaki-san believes that Raiju committed the crimes described, and fled by land into a different area of America. Respectfully, I do not believe he is correct.” She tried, wary that her sloppy superior was in the Boss’s closer family.

“What makes you believe this?”  
“This security camera footage I discovered during my investigation suggests he was killed and framed as a cover-up. A red herring as it were.” Mariko pursed her lips at the lack of information she had as she sent the video files. The footage was scant – glimpses on random security cameras that the culprit had not been aware of – and when images were present, all she had was someone in a black hoodie or a mass of glitched pixels. From the Koi Fisheries, she only had a vaguely human shadow. 

The Boss watched a few of the clips for a moment, but stayed silent with an unreadable expression. So cool. Mariko would murder anyone to work directly for the Boss. Her mother’s head on a plate? Done, with garnish.  
“I believe somebody who has inside knowledge of the Yakuza did this. If they were from a rival gang, such as Los Muertos, they would have made the message clear.” Mariko swallowed. Even via stream, the Boss’s gaze was hot on her skin. “I believe it was an exile. Someone skilled, and someone confident that they would not get caught.”

“The Matsumoto Clan has a few exiles that we can investigate.” The Boss mused, and Mariko internally squealed at how the Boss actually believed her.  
“Thank you. I ordered that the monitoring of ships and airports should continue. Thus the culprit is either still in the city, or has moved to a different area in America.” The Raiju theory still worked, it simply had to be adjusted. “It is true, I do not know if the motive was money or personal vendetta. If in the case of vendetta, the culprit would have simply stolen the money to frame Raiju so that their own identity would not be discovered. If that is the case, it is likely they would try and leave the immediate area as soon as possible or target more Mastumoto Clan members, depending on their vendetta. Therefore, if more incidents occur, we should be able to track them.”

Mariko ground her teeth a little with nerves as she looked at her notes. Said out loud everything sounded so…speculative.  
“And for money?” The Boss asked, who to her delight sounded genuinely interested in her theories.  
“For that theory, we must consider that our culprit is ex-Yakuza, and probably highly ranked. They also had a Swiss bank account to which they transferred money. This means that they are used to handling less that legal transactions, and have significant business knowledge.” Mariko liked this theory more, because the character of their culprit suggested it was more likely. “However, our culprit did not steal enough money to set them up for life. Therefore, I believe that wherever they go they will invest this money. Property has the lowest risk with the highest benefit factor in comparison to other investments, especially businesses and – of course, I do not need to explain this to you. My apologies.”

Mariko gave a huff of apologetic laughter and brushed down her suit lapels. She would have to mind herself. If she became to engrossed in her case, she may forget just who she was talking to.  
“Very true. But it is a good theory. They are both well thought out.” The Boss nodded, and Mariko glowed on the inside. “I will set up investigations in other regions, adhering to both of your theories. You will investigate your city, on the chance that the culprit is still present. I suggest examining every business that has opened since the robbery, and heightening security on any other fronts that may be targeted out of retribution.”  
That was exactly what Mariko had been about to suggest! Oh, her and the Boss were vibing so hard!  
“I will not fail you!” Mariko hugged her tablet and gave another low bow. “Thank you very much!”

***

“I want to die.” Reaper growled at the screen he had been assigned to. Akande had ordered they all review the visual footage from the reconnaissance omnics they had sent out, along with drone footage that they had collected from various random town spot checks. Which equivalated to about a billion hours in Reaper’s opinion. They’d been at this all weekend, and would probably be here until they died, because their scouts were still out collecting.

“Drama llama.” Sombra rolled her eyes, then went back to watching. Well, being a hacker of course she was used to staring at a screen until her eyeballs exploded. Besides, she’d had time off to scan through other helpful datasets that she could find.  
“There are five of us! Well, there were.” Reaper glared at Amelie’s empty seat.  
“Amelie has a doctor’s note.” Akande waved a sheaf of paper, but even he looked tired and irritable.  
“I am actually glad she’s going to a chiropractor.” Sombra switched over to her next omnic stream with a bored flick of a nail. “Her back is, like, broken in three places. I don’t know how she walks.”

Reaper side-eyed Moira. She had headphones in, and was happily fixated on the screen. She couldn’t possibly being enjoying this.  
“And we all felt so sorry for her we just had to let her leave, I know.” Reaper groaned and rolled his head to crack what was left of his neck and also look at Moira. “How much do I have to pay you to break my spine?”  
She didn’t even hear him. Ok. That moved past suspicious. Usually Moira leaped up like an enthusiastic dog for a walk whenever someone mentioned even a slight medical experiment. That meant only one thing. Reaper descended into the ground and rose up behind her, a menacing billow of black shadow.

“ANIME!” He snarled, and slammed his clawed hand on her desk. True enough, there was cartoon nerdery on the screen.  
“Ahh!” Moira jumped, and vanished into her own shadow portal. One day they were going to do that at the same time, run into each other and Reaper would end up as a skinny Irish swamp witch from the waist down. Well, that was a horrible thought. He decided to shelve that nightmare for later, and turn to the issue at hand.

“We’re stuck watching omnics go for bus rides, and you’re watching _anime??_ I’m going to kill you.” Reaper charged forward with his throttlin’ hands, as Moira bared her teeth and claws. Someone was going to die in this fight, and _God_ did Reaper hope it was him. Then he would never have to watch a stupid omnic feed again.  
“Guys – “

“Hey!” Akande stormed forward and grabbed Reaper with his giant gold fist which he had very quickly attached, and held out his other hand at Moira. “What are we, animals?”  
Reaper just growled with rage. Moira hissed.  
“ ‘ey – “  
“You both stop this nonsense now. Moira, no more anime. Reaper, no killing Moira.” Akande gave him a warning squeeze. Oh, who did he think he was fucking with.  
“Ooh, harder daddy.” Reaper sneered, and Akande was so shocked that he just stared at him with his mouth open. “Squeeze me. Bitch.”  
“I will crush you, little man.” Akande recovered, tightened his grip and Reaper went _poof_. Gone.   
“Oh do not pull that again.” Akande glared around the room to try and find which wall Reaper was phased into this time. Well, there were four, one of which was behind Moira.  
“Excuse me – “

“FROM THE SHADOWS!” Reaper snarled, leaped out, and got Moira in a Full Nelson.  
“Give me your energy!” Moira cackled and slapped her sapping palm against his head.  
“Ha! I don’t have any left!” Reaper laughed, because he was running on Redbull and nothing was real anymore.  
“Stop this, both of you!” Akande snapped and picked them both up in his giant metal fist to give them a shake.  
“Oi!” Sombra fired three rounds into the hotel ceiling. They all stopped. Reaper and Moira dangled, suspended in the air from Akande’s fist, Moira still in a Full Nelson, Reaper still getting his brains Succed.

“If all of you have quite finished…I think I found our friends.” Sombra pointed at the screen like a cat with the cream. Akande put them both down, and everyone rushed over.  
“Is that Maximillien’s feed?” Akande raised an eyebrow, and Sombra nodded.  
“He’s in a casino. I don’t think he knew we are contractually allowed to review his visuals.”  
“Are you serious? Don’t tell me he _gambled_ his allowance.” Akande was getting a year older by the day. Reaper took great joy in watching somebody else descend to the depths of hell that was being a parent to several disorderly adults with superpowers. He’d done his time in Blackwatch. Never again.

“Maybe we should be glad he did. Look.” Sombra pointed with a clawed nail. Seriously, Akande was the only one here not with the ‘Taloned Talon’ look. He needed to get with it. Well there was Amelie too, but she was a hair’s breath away from being convinced.

Maximillien turned his head to another player at the poker table. If Reaper saw McCree, he was going to have a breakdown.  
“You!” Moira suddenly cried and pointed as Sombra paused the screen. A Shambali Monk. The Shambali Monk that had apparently teabagged Genji back to life on the battlefield or whatever.  
“Zenyatta.” Akande grinned, his voice full of triumph. “We know where they are now!”  
“Yeah, unfortunately the casino’s smack bang in the middle of town, so he could have come from   
anywhere.” Sombra shrugged.

“Are we all overlooking a Shambali Monk playing poker, or has life got that weird that it doesn’t register anymore.” Reaper commented, and the shadow mist that covered his eyeballs drooped. Man, had Moira really Succed him that hard?  
“I mean, yes, it is odd, but we have our location! We will have those children in no time! Ahahahaha!” Akande laughed and punched the air so hard the lightbulb exploded.  
“Ok.” Reaper said, and then collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, Talon is how my brain actually functions half the time.  
> Next chapter: What happened to Hanzo?? woooo~
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! :DD
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	30. The Genji Angstᵀᴹ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't sure whether to add the Graphic Violence tag for this bit at the start; if you don't like gore, just skip everything in italics ^.^b

_Thunder rolled in the sky in the sky above Shimada Castle._

_“Nii-san…” Genji panted, fear clear in those dark eyes. Blood blossomed on the shoulder of his shirt where Hanzo had got the first cut of the fight. While Genji had run out to play, Hanzo had trained. This wasn’t a fight he could ever win. His brother’s practised hands shook on the hilt of his katana._   
_“Nii-san – “_   
_Hanzo lunged forward, fire in his mind. Dishonourable. Unworthy. Traitor._

Threat. 

_One strike, powerful, practised, instant. Genji’s scream ripped through him, chest bloodied, sword arm chopped clean off. His brother dropped to his knees, as his eyes rolled white with pain. The fire in Hanzo’s mind was overtaken by the sick wave of that scream. He’d never heard a human make that noise, let alone his own brother. Stop._ Make it stop! _He sliced into Genji again and again._ Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!! 

_Genji must have been silent long before Hanzo’s blood-drenched sword hit the dojo floor. His sticky hands trembled uncontrollably. The wall and floor was rutted with marks from his katana, grooves that filled with blood. And Genji… if their father had been alive, Hanzo doubted even he would have recognized the crimson pile of meat that shuddered on the mat in front of him. Hanzo couldn’t breathe. His ears rang. White filled the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t feel his body._   
_“Hrkgl…” A face that had no lower jaw gurgled, whined. His little brother. “Haahs…ggho……..Haa…”_

McCree had just finished his 3am shirtless prowl around the property perimeter. Any sane criminal would hopefully be deterred by his abs glistening in the night and not come near their house. So far it seemed to have worked; the street was quiet as a button in a mouse’s house. Just the soft hum of the odd hover car and the hush of warm wind in the trees. Summer thunder rolled in the sky as rain started to plip down.  
“Just the right amount of quiet.” McCree tapped the ash out of his cigar into the lawn, clipped it, and tucked it into his booty pocket. He’d best stop enjoyin’ the night air and get some rest; he only had about three hours sleep to catch before school. 

McCree had just reached the front door, when something tugged at his gut. The same instinct that made him duck a bullet on the battlefield or told him he was bein’ followed. He swallowed, and cast a seein’ eye around the dark in his peripherals. Nothin’. Not a shadow outta place. McCree breathed to slow his heart as he reached for the hand scanner t’ let him in. If someone was gonna go for him, it’d be when he’d opened the – 

A flash of bright blue burst out the door, and McCree rolled back and drew on pure instinct. He almost fired before he realized. It was one of Hanzo’s dragons, but never like he’d seen ‘em before. Its coils of light twisted like a stung snake, and its face contorted into a silent scream as its eyes wheeled. It clawed the air as if desperate to flee further, then vanished, leavin’ a ghost of horror.  
“By the noose an’ rope, what… “ McCree shoved Peacekeeper into his belt, slapped his hand on the door and ran inside. Just as the screaming started. 

Hanzo it was, clear as day, but to the depths of his soul, McCree would never forget that scream. It cut him, like a mother shrieking grief over her dead daughter or a dog pleadin’ for its long-gone master to get up in every way a broken animal could. It was raw, and filled with so much anguish that McCree was runnin’ before he knew it.

_“GENJI!”_ Hanzo screamed again, as McCree took the stairs three at a time, shot past the kid’s rooms, and wrenched the door open, but stopped short at the sight in front of him. Hanzo convulsed in their bed, lit up by blue. His tattoo writhed on his arm, loops of dragon rising and snapping back in some painful malady. But they didn’t seem angry. McCree didn’t know why, but it felt as they were callin’ him to help. _Wake him up._ Hanzo sobbed something in broken Japanese, so McCree went to go do just that, consequences be damned.

“Hey, hey,” McCree braced himself for possibly death, and gave Hanzo’s normal shoulder a rough shake.  
 _“Rgh!”_ The noise that came outta Hanzo’s mouth was like an animal, his eyes shone blue and lit up his tear-streaked face, and a hand shot for McCree’s throat. Luckily, McCree had been waking this dragon up three times a night, so was prepared for the usual murder attempt. He knocked the strike out the way, hissed as his arm burned from the electricity, and grabbed Hanzo’s face in both his hands.  
“It’s me, it’s me, it’s Jesse.” He said in a harsh whisper, and choked as Hanzo’s thumb jabbed at his solar plexus. “Hanzo…”

At the sound of his name, the fight and light drained from Hanzo’s face, and all of a sudden McCree found himself being half-crushed by the big archer arms thrown around him. Nails bit into his back as Hanzo shuddered silent sobs into his bare shoulder.  
“Hey, it’s ok, it’s alright.” McCree used his horse calming voice, and stroked the silky length of Hanzo’s hair. He could feel how the other man’s heart thumped where their chests pressed together. What in the tarnation had caused this? Did it happen on the regular? McCree’d never heard Hanzo scream like that on the base though. He woulda remembered.

“Get off.” Hanzo suddenly choked, and struggled to get his arms away.  
“Wh – “  
“Get off!” Hanzo snarled, and pushed him back so hard that McCree slid halfway to the end of the bed. Hanzo scrambled up and practically ran to the ensuite. McCree didn’t follow him as he heard him hurl up his guts. Fuck, it musta been bad. Well, he doubted Hanzo was the kinda man who’d appreciate him listenin’ to that, so he headed back towards the open door, and set off downstairs to find somethin’ Hanzo might appreciate. 

“Marcos?”  
He almost crashed into Toshiro in the hallway. Kid looked as white as a sheet.  
“Git back t’ bed, nothin’ to see here.” McCree grizzled. He’d shut the door, and woe betide if that troublemaker tried to open it. Right now, he was makin’ the mission targets second priority. He needed to somehow…make things ok. And from that mess, it seemed callin’ Genji would be the worst possible option. So he clinked down the stairs, still in his boots. A bottle of sake might do well, so McCree hooked a half empty one outta the alcohol cupboard and set off back upstairs again.

“Marcos, who’s Genji?” Toshiro was still up and in the hallway, dang it. But the kid’s voice was small and rough, and all his usual composure’d been replaced by wide-eyed fear. He looked frightened to the core. So McCree stopped just for a moment.

“My Japanese ain’t good. Don’t know who or what Genji is.” McCree said in a tone that gave no room for questions, then sighed. That scream had shaken _him_ , so who knew how bad it’d shaken up civilians. Luckily, it seemed Kimba had slept on right through.  
“Listen, I gotta deal with this. I can come talk t’ you after if needs be.” He pointed at their bedroom door, but Toshiro shook his head.  
“No, I’ll be ok. It’s fine.” He said, like someone who was very not fine, then retreated back into his room. McCree decided to leave that for now and put out the current fire.

He opened the bedroom door to see Hanzo perched on the end of their bed with his back to the door. He seemed to be shiverin’ with his arms wrapped around himself.  
“Get out!” Hanzo spat with enough venom t’ kill a bull, but McCree couldn’t leave this pathetic proud man just yet. True, some people didn’t like t’ be seen in a weak state, and McCree would respect that and leave. But only when he was sure Hanzo wasn’t gonna fully emotionally explode.

“For you.” He placed the sake beside Hanzo, but his partner wouldn’t even look at him. There was only a curtain of black hair and that big ol’ muscular back for him t’ talk to.  
“Did you not hear me?” Hanzo said in a tone of certain death, but McCree always lived on the dangerous side of things. So he picked up a clean serape from his clothes-pile chair, and draped it over Hanzo’s shoulders. Hanzo ripped it out of his hand before he’d even finished, and threw it on the floor. So McCree sighed, picked it up and tried again, a little more firmly this time with his metal hand.  
“Don’t be an idiot, shiverin’ yerself sick.” He grumped as Hanzo failed to co-operate, but didn’t actively hinder him. “Remember, I still need you. And I’ll look after yer if needs be. Just tell me how.”

Wrapped in McCree’s serape, Huge Muscles Hanzo suddenly looked so small somehow, and it tugged at his chest. He’d meant what he said: he didn’t want to stand by helpless. He wanted to bundle this man up and make him better again somehow. But Hanzo just kept his silence and his face hidden. McCree prided himself at reading people, but even if he were blind as a welder’s dog he’d be able to tell he wasn’t wanted. 

“I’ll be downstairs if anythin’ comes up.” He said in a soft voice, then rose to leave. Just as his hand touched the handle, McCree heard a hoarse whisper behind him.  
“Why did you all forgive me?” It was barely audible, but it made all the breath leave McCree’s body in a sigh. So he was the one who got t’ answer that question, huh? McCree paused for a second and thought. There really was only one answer.

“Fer him.” McCree knew they both knew who he meant. “For us growin’ up in the shadows, true kindness is the hardest thing to understand. People like the person he has become, him and the monk too, are a shock to the system. We forgave you to honour their kindness, and his wishes. An’ you know you did wrong. You’re trying to atone for it. So we forgive you for learnin’ from mistakes, and not repeating them.”

There was a moment of silence, which McCree tried not to feel a little proud in for phrasin’ that so well on the fly.  
“Leave.” This time Hanzo’s voice was more of a plea, so McCree didn’t push it. He’d sleep on the couch tonight with Peacekeeper pointed at the door. Usually he’d call Genji or Zenyatta for patrol help, but if Hanzo saw Genji’s shadow haunting the property, he might die of a heart attack, and if he saw Zenyatta lurkin’ on the lawn, he might think the monk had come to devour his soul fer his crimes. So luck would have to do ‘em tonight, and McCree weren’t anythin’ if he weren’t lucky.

***  
So the upside of that little experience was that McCree learned how Hanzo dealt with people he’d supposedly embarrassed himself in front of. The downside was that the dealin’ was ignoring it. Not just ignoring the incident. Ignoring the _person_ too. 

As Hanzo headed for his douche car in his shades after not sayin’ so much as a ‘hm’ to McCree all morning, the cowboy wondered what the game plan was here. Was Hanzo just gonna…ignore him until one of them died? Little did he know that was almost spot on, and that Hanzo had been the sole survivor of the four major embarrassments of his life until Genji had returned.

“Hey, Hideki – “  
Hanzo just opened his car door and got in. His door hushed shut for a very awkward second while McCree squinted at him, and Hanzo refused to look at him. The only one who didn’t seem phased was Hanzo’s car, who chirped away in an amorous tone. All in all, a very weird experience. Perhaps McCree should get blackout drunk and try to forget the last 48 hours, or at least pretend to. Nah that’d never work. Drunk McCree would probably try and motorboat those big archer tiddies and get instantly atomized.

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” Kimba piped up from behind him, all ready for school. She even had a darn serape on ‘cause it was drizzlin’ bless her.  
“Nah, he just got up on the wrong side o’ bed.” McCree chewed his toothpick and opened the minivan door for the pair of them. The scratches Hanzo had clawed into his skin last night tugged.  
“How would you know, you slept on the couch.” Ooh, it seemed Toshiro was particularly bitter this morning. But he knew at least a little about what had happened. He coulda made any kind of jibe toward Hideki related to that, but hadn’t so far. Dang, if McCree hadn’t been worried about the kid before, he sure as heck was now.

“Did you two really just marry for Hideki’s green card? Are you going to split up soon?” Kimba went balls in with her questions didn’t she?   
“Oh, Hideki said that did he?” McCree sighed, and started the car. It sucked that the kid liked em so much, given this was all a cover. “He’s just bein’ a bastard, dontchoo worry. We get along in our own way.”

Or at least they had. Now it seemed as though they hadn’t just gone back to square one, but hopscotched back into the negatives. McCree would at least like to get back to the point where he existed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's Valentines Day for these two, let's say it could have gone better D: But phew that's the mandatory Genji Angst out the way :3
> 
> hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Love hearin from y'all n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	31. Uncle Goku Teaches Sex

Toshiro stared out the window at this unseasonal summer rain, and picked at a peeled strip of skin beside his thumb. Last night… he could still hear Hideki’s scream in his head. Felt it in his gut. _Genji._ That name _meant_ something. Toshiro looked up if it actually was a Japanese name, and he’d been right, somehow – 

“Sex KITAAAAAAA!” Uncle Goku cartwheeled into Toshiro’s Gym Theory class, and jolted Toshiro out of his thoughts with horror. No. Not this. He tried to disappear into his seat. He hadn’t considered that a Gym teacher had to do Sex Ed, but here they were, at an all-time low.

“This is going to be so fun!” Goku punched the holotable, and the interactive screen lit up. “Yes! Kiri!”  
He pointed at some nerd at the front.  
“Is there an anime for this too?”  
“Ha!” Goku laughed, and dragged his hand over his facemask thing. “No, no, dear Kami on the Watchpoint, no.”  
He tapped up a slide that was just Zayarvar sitting under a cherry blossom tree. Why, Toshiro didn’t know and didn’t want to know. He was trying to dissolve into an amorphous blob of unrecognizable goop.

“Now you’re all sixteen, so you probably know about the boring science basics.” Goku began to list off. “Hetero basics: Penis goes in vagina, or strap-on goes in butt. Gay basics: Penis goes in butt. Lesbian basics: Clitoris on clitoris or strap-on goes in vagina. Ace basics: Generally nothing, but it can be more complicated. Bis, Pans, and Demis: A mixture of the above. So we’re gonna skip on past that. We’ll have a general questions session and a practical bit at the end of the lesson.”  
“What?” One of the guys almost choked.  
“Oh, just putting condoms on this box of dildos I bought!” Goku announced cheerfully and dropped a cardboard box on the desk. A rubber dick bounced out, but Goku just snatched it out of the air and slapped it back in. “Fun!”

There were two more cardboard boxes on the ground, one of which seemed to have a fake buttock peeking out of it. Toshiro wondered if death by pen would be too dramatic, or whether he could make hurling himself out the window look like an accident.

“So!” Goku shifted to the next slide, of Zayarvar hovering above a pool with his orb things around him. Even mentally, Toshiro would not call them ‘balls’.   
“Aw, look at him.” Goku sighed, and proceeded to flick through about ten slides of Zayarvar in increasingly more picturesque places.

“Is that your boyfriend?” One of the guys called out. Even Toshiro wasn’t sure about that. Goku and Zayarvar didn’t exude the huge, gross sexual tension Marcos and Hideki did, but they did seem kind of close.  
“My main one! Were both poly in an open relationship.” Goku explained cheerfully, and was met with a sea of blank faces. Was that some sort of euphemism?  
“So, polyamorous or polygamous means you like to date or marry more than one person at the same time.” Genji held up a finger as he explained. “Usually you’re all dating or marrying each other, like a big pile – we’ll get to that diagram later. But if you’re in an open relationship, you and your partner agree that you both can sleep with whoever you all like!”

“You fuckin’?” A dark-skinned girl in the third row leaned back with a raised eyebrow.  
“I can’t legally answer that question!” Goku pointed cheerfully, and clapped his hands, ready to move on.   
“But your boyfriend’s an omnic! Isn’t that weird?” Whiteboy bitch called from the opposite side of the room, and somehow, Goku’s entire facemask fell into shadow, and his eye slits glinted a Disney villain green. Toshiro could almost see the word DOOM written behind the teacher as he creaked around. 

The class went silent, but Toshiro personally wasn’t scared. He would kick back and eat popcorn if Uncle Goku decided to rip off Mason’s head with his cyborg strength. Unfortunately, it seemed Hideki had absorbed all the fight rage in their family gene pool.  
“Rule number one of my class.” Goku’s robot voice practically threatened. The complete change of tone from his bubbly self sent nervous whispers around the class. “Omnics. Are. Amazing!”

He did a somersault and landed on his desk to point at a picture of Zayarvar basking in the sun, back to his cheery self.  
“They are beautiful, and loving, and deserve only the best, and if you disagree with me, you can physically fight me!” Goku pounded his fist into his hand. “ Well, actually I’m a teacher so you can physically fight my cousin Hideki. You can find him at the Jasmine Vine Café across the road. He’s jacked and always ready to throw down.”  
True, Toshiro nodded.

Goku bounced down with his back to the class then spun around like a cowboy drawing in one of Marcos’ dramatic Westerns.  
“So Mason, what did I say about omnics? Don’t make me give you lines now.”  
“Uhhh…beautiful, loving, deserve the best?” Mason choked out.  
“Good! And that will be on the exams, as well as anything on a slide that features Aizawa Sensei.”  
Goku brought up a picture of a tired, black-haired anime man wrapped up to his mouth in a grey scarf.

“You can take notes on the other bits if you like – they’re probably more life tips than things I can put in a test.” A slide came up with the title THE GOLDEN RULES OF SEX in shining animation. Aizawa Sensei lurked in the bottom of the screen. Little did any student know that this lesson had almost been directly copied from their teacher’s own sex ed by a classy Yakuza prostitute with paid-for, hands on experience sessions if desired.

“We’ll start with rules, safety and anatomy, look at complex sexualities, then get into the fun stuff like relationship types, effective foreplay, and kinks.” Goku waved at the slide with his usual max enthusiasm. Toshiro wondered if Kimba would set something on fire and save him with the alarm if he texted her. But then again if either dad had learned that he’d skived sex ed, they might feel obliged to take on that duty themselves. And Toshiro did _not_ want whatever angry patriotic sluttery Hideki might have to offer as advice, or have a sex ed conversation entirely in cowboy metaphors. So maybe Goku was the best option here. What a tragedy.

***

“Uh, Un – I mean Goku…” Toshiro deposited his practise dildo into the Dildo Box, at the end of class. He wondered if Goku might know who Genji was. Marcos apparently didn’t know, and he doubted Hideki would give him the time of day, so maybe…  
“What is it Toshiro my boy!” Goku clapped him on the shoulder as the rest of the students filed out. The cyborg pronounced his name like Hideki did – different, with most of the vowels rushed through. But somehow he liked it more when Goku said it that way.

“Something came up yesterday, and I wondered if you could help me with it.” Toshiro tried to pretend that the first time he was asking someone for help in his life was not taking place over a box of around 25 fake dicks.  
“Ask away!” Goku crouched down and looked up at him. Toshiro frowned, then crouched down as well.

“Why are we crouching?”  
“I don’t know!” Goku replied cheerfully. “Do you want to stop?”  
“Uhh, nevermind.” Toshiro just waved this weird situation away from priority, and focussed on his real question. “Do you know anyone called Genji?”  
Goku tilted his head.

“Genji?” The cyborg brought up a finger to tap his chin with a metal finger. “Is this for Japanese? Because if it’s a famous Genji your looking for, that’s probably _The Tale of Genji_ by Murasaki Shikibu.”  
“No, no! Hideki, like full on screamed the name the other night.” Toshiro hissed. For some reason he felt as though Hideki would for real kick his ass if he heard about this. The security camera blinked innocently in the corner of the room.

“Like, during sex? With Marcos?” Goku, for once, actually sounded fully grossed out which was nice solidarity.  
“No! Ew. I don’t think they even…do that. They just stare at each other. It’s weird. Anyway.” Toshiro did not want to think about any of whatever was going on there. Goku just shrugged.  
“I dunno. Hideki was in Japan longer than me. Perhaps he knows a Genji I don’t. Sorry.” 

Toshiro sighed with disappointment as the mystery ate at his gut. He didn’t know why it had got to him that much.  
“Ok. Thanks anyway.” He un-crouched with a pop up his knees, and Goku followed him.  
“All good!” Goku waved, and folded his Dildo Box shut. “You’re a good kid, you know. I can see you going far!”  
“Tsh, tell that to Marcos and Hideki.” Toshiro rolled his eyes.  
“I will!” Goku punched the air, and Toshiro couldn’t help how his lip picked up as he turned to leave. Somehow talking to Goku had made him feel better on the inside than he had in ages.

“Shiro!”   
Toshiro jumped as Kimba practically ambushed him outside the door.  
“What?” He grunted, but couldn’t be poisonous after Goku’s positivity and the fact that Kimba’s eyes were practically swimming.  
“Marcos was super down in Spanish class, I could tell! He didn’t sing anything and was all grumpy. I think something’s really up between him and Hideki.”   
“Isn’t it always?” Toshiro scoffed. That those two hadn’t throttled each other yet was a miracle. He would pay to see Marcos’ metal arm get put to such good use. Kimba just punched his arm.

“Ow! What the – “  
“We can’t let Hideki and Marcos split up! We have to do something!” She tugged at his jersey and he scowled in annoyance.   
“Why? They’re bastards.”  
“Come on, Shiro.” She pouted. Behind them, unseen, their gym teacher climbed out the window. “They’re the best foster parents we’ve ever had. My grades and your grades have never been better! Marcos got me the Ziegler op and took us horse riding, and Hideki saved us from those weirdos and is teaching us karate. We’re not the freaks with bodyguards or in some stupid private tutoring, and I just…like this better.”

She sniffed, then rubbed her nose with a sleeve.  
“Hideki literally locks us out of our rooms!” Toshiro protested, and crossed his arms. Kimba paused for a second and looked at the ground.  
“Most of our other parents didn’t care enough to try and be around us. I mean, they’re weird,” Kimba admitted, because no-one could dispute that. “But I like them. They…try. And we can be bastards too.”  
Toshiro gave a huge sigh, because that was too true as well. Dammit.  
“Well what do you want me to do?”

Kimba immediately perked up.  
“Well I was thinking because I know Marcos better and you know Hideki, we could talk to them. It’s lunch break…”  
“Why don’t you talk to Hideki?”  
“Please?” Kimba took off her damn cowboy hat and clutched it. Toshiro groaned as she gave him her best dewy eyes.  
“Damn it, fine. But if he throws me into oncoming traffic, that’s on you.” Toshiro rolled his eyes and followed her off towards the stairs.

***

“Hanzo.” Genji appeared from the shadows in Hanzo’s surveillance room and almost got murdered again, but this time via chopstick. Hanzo had not seen him leave the school on the security feed. Then again, he should know better than to think Genji couldn’t avoid some basic, obviously-placed cameras. He had probably mapped them on his first day of teaching. 

When Genji let go of Hanzo’s hand, he returned his chopstick back from near the cyborg’s eye-slit to his lunch.  
“What did the boy and you talk about?” Hanzo turned his back on his brother, and tried to acknowledge his presence as little as possible. If he didn’t look at robot Genji, the metal monument to his sins, maybe he wouldn’t…exist. Or be as real.  
“You are not talking to Marcos.” Genji replied, and evaded the question.   
“We are working just fine.” Hanzo evaded the subject in return. Genji just held out his phone, on which there were two texts.

From: Goku  
Is Hideki speaking to you?

Marcos:  
No.

“How did you know to ask him that?” Hanzo appraised Genji with a regal look, even though he knew that little shit Toshiro had said something.  
“Why aren’t you talking to him?” Genji pressed, and Hanzo glared. This was always what happened when two or more stubborn Shimadas got into an interrogation lock. At one point, their father had had to resort to collective punishment, because neither of them would give him a straight answer about a slip up. Then, later, he had rewarded them for their oratory skills, which led to conversations like this.

“Do not be childish. Answer my question.” Hanzo put on his full Dragon of Hanamura tone, but sadly Genji was the only one on earth immune to it.  
“You’re the one being childish. You did something you thought was mortifying didn’t you? And now you’re ignoring the witness. You always do this! And McCree won’t be having any ‘accidents’.” Genji put up finger quotes, and Hanzo pursed his lips at that. None of those people had been important enough to go ‘accident free’.

“Marcos and I will continue our work relationship.” Hanzo replied in a dismissive tone and scanned the surveillance tapes again. Kimba was in McCree’s office. Why wasn’t important, Hanzo supposed. McCree could handle whatever was wrong.  
“You know you’re just embarrassing yourself even more by doing this? The only way to save face now is to go and talk to him.” So Genji was now using his pride against him to persuade. His methods were good, but his delivery was still too obvious.

“I do not need advice from you.” Hanzo lied, because Genji’s advice had been pretty good. But he just could not face McCree. Anyone who saw him cry just had to die. That was how the world worked, Hanzo did not make the rules. But he could not kill McCree. So the only solution was to pretend he didn’t exist. Logical.

“The dragons called up the memory, didn’t they?” Genji crossed his arms and Hanzo froze. “You know that means somethi – “  
“Leave.” Hanzo glared at the surveillance, but did not see it.  
“Or what?” Genji straightened up into a powerstance. Hanzo rose from his chair, eyes steely. He may not kill Genji again, but he would throw him in a dumpster. There was a tense, still moment, as both Shimadas crackled, on edge for the first move. 

🎵 - _ride a cowboy~~_ 🎵

“What the – “ Hanzo turned to look at his phone. A text from McCree. With an alert noise he _had not_ installed.  
“Superb taste, _Aniki_.” Genji practically giggled. “Not me though!” 

🎵 - _ride a cowboy~~_ 🎵

“Rgh!” Hanzo snatched up the phone and jabbed it unlocked.

From: Marcos  
Need to see u in my office

From: Marcos  
I know u got this so don’t go ignorin

Just as he read it, he got the tracker alert that Toshiro had left school.  
“I’ll look after Toshiro. Go to him!” Genji said in a dreamy voice, so Hanzo shoved his phone in his pocket.  
“You are making this weird. Cease.” And then he booted open the back door, and stormed out. Hanzo tried not to think about the fact that if he did not actually…did he dare think the words _care for?_ No, _somewhat like_ McCree then he would have thrown Genji in the garbage, and resumed his usual method of dealing with things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's salvageable after all? :3 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, so please leave a comment! :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	32. Will McCree Be Allowed to Exist Again?

Toshiro grumbled to himself as he trudged, through the damn rain and risked detention by leaving school just so he could play relationship counsellor to some guy who hated him. What would he even say to Hideki? He didn’t fuckin’ know. Screw sympathy. Screw empathy. Maybe he’d just go in and tell Hideki he was an idiot and to go fuck his cowboy. Toshiro shrugged. He could see that working to be honest.

He wove his way through the lunch-rush customers at the Jasmine Vine as quickly as possible, because the staff knew that he wasn’t meant to be out of school and might catch him before he got to Office Douchebag. The less delays the better. But when he got to Hideki’s door, the interior was dark, and there was a note stuck to it that just read ‘OUT’. Well, that made things simple. 

After a token knock to say that at least he’d tried, Toshiro spun back around, and headed back into the café. Oh well, while he was here, he may as well have something, since he got a discount. Toshiro turned the corner around the Jasmine-covered divider, and almost crashed into a tall Asian lady in a suit, who had shades on indoors. Which meant she was either blind, an asshole, or simply didn’t like having good eyesight and wanted to shitify it for personal pleasure. With all that in mind, maybe she was related to Hideki. Toshiro pulled a face. If Hideki had a snooty sister, Toshiro was going to run the fuck away from home. Instead, he took a seat at the only free café table behind her after a quick ‘scuse me’.

“Good afternoon Toshiro – I mean, young master Toshiro!” Mr Anagnos ran up to him, and pretty much bowed. Toshiro wondered if Hideki had put him in a shirt that tight to punish him with discomfort, provide some weird fanservice, because Hideki liked the view, or possibly all three. Unknown to him, he was uncannily correct.  
“Ah…shouldn’t you be in scho – “  
“Shut it waiter boy. Get me honeydew bubble tea.” Toshiro just scowled.  
“Would you like a Jelkie with that?”  
“A what?”  
“Cookie with a jelly interior. Very popular!” Mr Anagnos smiled, and possibly sweated a bit as Toshiro just eyed him. Then he shrugged.  
“Why not.”

As Mr Anagnos breezed away, Toshiro noticed the lady he’d bumped into before looking at him. He just glared, so she looked away, and caught some big red-headed waitress as she returned from serving.

“Excuse me, is the owner around?” She asked in a cheerful voice.  
“I think you just missed him.” Red-headed lady smiled back. “I don’t know how long he’ll be out. He’s very busy.”  
“Would you happen to be able to give me his name or number? So that I can contact him later. It’s to do with available properties in the block, you see.”   
The red-headed waitress’ eyes narrowed.  
“Sorry, I can’t give away anybody’s personal details to strangers that walk in. He may be in tomorrow morning. Until then, feel free to enjoy the café.” 

The dark-glasses lady gave a tight-lipped smile, as if she wasn’t too happy with that answer, and then Mr Anagnos arrived with Toshiro’s drink and whatever the fuck a Jelkie was.  
“Enjoy!” The ex-teacher said, then hurried back towards the kitchen before Toshiro could glare at him some more. But before Mr Anagnos managed it though, Dark Glasses Lady caught him by the elbow.

“Excuse me,” She gave a flustered smile, and Mr Anagnos stopped with an uneasy glance towards the kitchen. Somebody was whipped, huh? “I wondered what the owner looked like. I’m coming in tomorrow to talk business, and wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.”  
“Uh,” Mr Anagnos swallowed, and looked back at the kitchen. “Japanese. Medium height. Tattoo on his wrist I think. He’s – “  
“Theo-chan!” Red-headed waitress called, and Mr Anagnos just excused himself and practically jogged away. Toshiro looked back at his drink. Something uneasy coiled in his gut, something to do with that lady, not the weird cookie-encrusted jelly he’d just bitten into. Maybe because she was headed over here.

“Hi! You don’t happen to be the son of the owner do you? I noticed the staff like you.” She smiled and took a seat opposite him.  
“What’s it to you?” Toshiro snapped, because she was too friendly and too sleazy, and it all rang alarm bells.  
“Well, I might be seeing a lot of your dad in the future. I’d like to get along.” She smiled as Toshiro just glowered. “Besides, anything you can tell me about him would help me get on his good side.”  
“Pfft, good side.” Toshiro rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to talk to you.”  
“No, but – “  
“Then what the hell are you still doing here?” Toshiro shooed with his hand, and got a massive sense of gratification when the lady shot him an obligatory smile, and left. So maybe that’s why Hideki liked ordering people around.

***

“Come on in.” McCree’s low voice called out after Hanzo rapped on the door. He still did not know what he was doing here. In this…. _public school_ , about to address something to do with…. _feelings_. But he could not linger out in the hallway. So Hanzo opened the door with a curt twist and stepped inside.

McCree’s big frame filled up an office chair. His boots rested up on his desk and the open window let a cool breeze in, but Hanzo could still smell the faint traces of a cigar. He glanced up. The smoke detectors had been disabled. Well, at least he was working around smoking at home. 

Hanzo glanced back. McCree looked up at him from under his hat and lashes as he chewed a toothpick. Hanzo’s heart picked up. They must have held silent eye contact for a least ten seconds like sexually tense idiots, until Hanzo realized McCree was waiting for him to talk. Fine.  
“You wanted to talk?” Hanzo fixed him with a haughty, draconian look, and crossed his arms.  
“Wondered if you would.” McCree unhooked his boots from the table and slowly rose. There was less space between them this way. This room was small. The space emphasized just how broad McCree’s chest was. The way he moved reminded Hanzo just how dangerous he was. Stupid, sexy, dangerous cowboy.

“Hanzo?” McCree raised an eyebrow, and Hanzo blinked out of his distraction.  
“Yes?” Not the best reply, but still valid.  
“Yer don’t like people seein’ weakness, do yer?” McCree took a seat on his own desk, and crossed his arms.  
“No.” Hanzo, for once, answered with complete honesty. “Last night was a disgrace. I do not wish to talk about it.”  
“Yer should.”  
“What, with you?” Hanzo made a dismissive noise, and sat down beside him, so he didn’t have to look McCree in the eye. It might glow red, and make him spew all his life secrets. Then McCree really would have to die.

“Ok then. Yer uncomfortable that I got blackmail material over you.” McCree said, and Hanzo wheeled on him, caught him by the throat and wrist and slammed him on to the desk.  
“If you _dare_ – “  
“Cool it, sugarbean.” McCree held his metal hand, the one Hanzo hadn’t pinned, up by his head in surrender. Hanzo squeezed his wrist harder, and slid his hand up McCree’s stubble-covered throat to make him tilt his head back more. McCree absolutely stretched his throat out for him, and Hanzo went hot all over. Oh. Fuck.

“Sugar _what_?” He bared his teeth to cover his fluster. McCree’s pulse ticked under his fingers, and Hanzo wondered whether it was from fear or… 

Knowing McCree, this would hardly scare him. Did he…was he…?   
“Bean.” McCree’s unruffled expression gave away nothing as he reached up and bopped Hanzo on the nose with a metal finger, and Hanzo was so surprised by the gesture that he remembered to breathe again. But given the cowboy was laid out on the desk like a four course meal, Hanzo doubted his dick would be as obedient as his lungs in the near future. Did McCree really have to splay his legs like he had an entire horse between them? Did he really have to wear a belt that said RIDE like a big gold advertisement on his crotch?

“Now if you’ll let me finish, I was gonna say that I’ll give you somethin’.” McCree offered in his rich voice, and, given their current physical arrangement, Hanzo’s brain sort of sparked and his eyebrows shot up.  
“Nothin’ like what yer thinkin’.” McCree’s laugh vibrated against his hand. Hanzo tried to revert back to a glare again, and retracted both his grips. “Unless…”

“What are you offering?” Hanzo retreated into his own personal space, and crossed his arms. He could not let McCree finish that sentence, because this slut of a cowboy might actually tempt him into carnal desire on a school desk. And while that would be a fantastic evasion of the situation, Hanzo was curious, and also in grudging agreement with Genji that he needed to somehow... work around this. Without hate sex. Or whatever they had now. Grudging acknowledgement sex.

McCree sat up, as casual as a man who had not been slightly throttled, and clasped his hands over his thighs where his chaps did not cover. Why this man wore chaps at school, Hanzo did not know. They did, however, enhance his very curvaceous rear. Smacking it would probably make a very pleasing sound, but that was not priority right now.  
“You wanted t’ know about my eye.” McCree pointed at his right eye, the one that shone red when things got spooky. “Needless t’ say, that spin about the energy drinks was just that. Maybe I’m in a truth-tellin’ mood.”

Hanzo tilted his chin, but doubted he could conceal the curiosity that flashed through him. As far as his knowledge extended, no current member of Overwatch had that information – Hanzo had heard Genji and several others, including original members such as Ana, have a loud debate over where McCree’s ‘High Noon’ powers came from: some said it was extreme cowboy weeabooism, others were sure it was some sort of American witchcraft, and the scientists would not talk about it because something to do with McCree that apparently Must Not Be Named had made Dr Ziegler cry. And not even Genji knew how just badly Hanzo had reacted to that memory-dream – only McCree. So it seemed a fair trade. If he knew a dark secret of McCree’s then maybe Hanzo could acknowledge his existence and not have to wait for one of them to die to have peace of mind. So Hanzo took a seat on McCree’s office chair.  
“I am listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to what McCree might say? Have some fun ;P I tell ya, it’s gonna be a cool chapter up next ;)
> 
> Please leave a comment to tell me what you thought! :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	33. The Valley of Forgotten Souls

Rain tapped down on the exposed windowsill, and brought with it the rich scent of concrete and greenery.  
“Right, now well I guess I’ll start at the beginning.” McCree lit up a cigar, and the amber embers lit his face in an eerie light in the dim day. For some reason, a ball of nerves twisted and thrilled in Hanzo’s belly. A morbid curiosity, or some deep instinctual warning? He was not sure, but he would not back out now. So Hanzo stayed silent, and did not dare divert McCree away from his story.

“Back when, I used to live in a farmin’ town. Not much to brag about compared to the sights we see today, but it had its charms. A few ranches, a few fields, specialists makin’ and sellin’ what we’d have to travel far afield to get. But it also had its oddities. Y’see down south of the town was a big ol’ valley which my abuela used to call the Valley of Forgotten Souls – probably somethin’ to do with one or more times in America’s bloody history. If I stood the stirrups on our largest horse I could see it from the ranch; a big patch o’ green shadow crouched in the red rocks. Nobody went there, and accordin’ to her, nobody who tried was seen again. But it weren’t a problem. We all stayed away from it, and it stayed away from our little town. Not that I thought much of it though, as a kid. It were too far away for me to try adventurin’ into, and I had enough work goin’ on anyhow. As I grew up, it became a strange old tale that I all but forgot. I had different interests other than my passed abuela’s stories. 

‘Y’see, I got tired of my only friends being ones with wrinkles or hooves. There weren’t any kids my age around then, but there were some older. They were trouble, but hey, I guess likin’ trouble’s always been in my nature. So I want to get in with these kids. I wanna be part of somethin’ younger, y’know? So little twelve year old me goes up to em, where they’re smokin’ and drinkin’ one night and makes a bold show. 

‘ “Howdy y’all,’ I said. ‘I seen you round town and I like yer style. What say we be friends?”  
Now obviously I weren’t the rugged charmer you see today. My voice were still up in the rafters, I had my baby face on, and I were actin’ bigger than my breeches. Of course, they laughed. So one of em, Ridin’ Rose I think we called her, broke out of the group and lit me a cigar.  
‘ “Alright then lil fella,” She told me, and dangled that sign of acceptance over my nose. “You can ride with us.”  
‘ “Aw c’mon.” Her guy protested mighty hard. “We don’t need some kid bringin’ us trouble from the old folk.”  
‘ “If!” She interrupted him, and smiled down at me like a desert demon after my soul. “He spends one night in the Valley down south, and brings me the Hangman’s Rope. It’s on an old tree in the middle, my granpa says.”

‘So keen was I to get in with them, that I dismissed their looks. For riches and gold, not one of them woulda done that haze.  
‘ “Rosy, ain’t that a little rough? “ Her guy tried to warn me, but she were hard set, and so was I.  
‘ “He does it, he gets in.” She handed me that lit smoke, and patted me on my shoulder.  
‘ “I’ll see you tomorrow, rope and all.” I replied, and headed on back to the stables. I saddled my white colt and rode out ‘neath the purple sky and big ol’ eye of the moon. Not a thought even crossed my mind to bring a shooter of any kind – wolves weren’t in our area, and I’d never laid eyes on a puma. Guns were for huntin’ or keeping coyotes off the chickens in my household. 

‘So off I rode down to the Valley, smoke in mouth, and a thrill in my veins. For the hour ride, it didn’t seem half bad. That old road was peaceful, if a little in disrepair. But as the rocks rose up outta the ground, and the battered old warning signs began to appear, I could feel the jitters creepin’ up on me – and I weren’t the only one. We reached a big ol’ rock, smote in half by I can’t say what, that the road went through. My colt, who was peaceful as a summer sky most days, danced and skittered like he’d seen a shadow in the snow. You could hear his terror bouncin’ off into the green and bein’ swallowed by the trees. I had to jump down for fear of bein’ bucked, and as soon as I was free, he bolted. 

‘Now I been around horses long enough to know they either got a damn good reason to be scared or a real silly one – like butterflies or sports balls. T’ keep myself cocky, I thought to myself that he’d seen a strange moth and hightailed it. Although there, alone under the moon with the silent valley ahead of me, it was hard to take a step forward. But my life weren’t nothin’ but that town. And I wanted to be someone in it. So I took a deep breath and walked through that split boulder into the trees.

‘The first thing I can tell ya was that it got cold. Now, it were a hot summer night, and I’d been sweatin’ on my colt. But in those trees my breath was a winter’s cloud, and I were shiverin’ in my skin. That weren’t nothing to the _feeling_ though. It crept into my gut like a poison, a skulking panic that simmered in all my limbs, ready to send myself into mutiny. The hairs on my arms and neck stood straight, like someone or somethin’ truly evil was watching. But I kept on going. I was here now, and like the man you know today, I weren’t a fan of backing down. So, chilled to the bone and on edge, I crept through the trees as silent as my spurs would allow, telling myself that it was all in my head. If it weren’t for the stories and the signs, I’d just be enjoyin’ a nighttime stroll in the forest.

‘And then I saw it. Clear as day, a shadow split off out of the trees that line the old road and flitted behind me. I froze. I couldn’t breathe. I could hear my heart louder than anything else in that silent valley, and I knew to the depths of my soul that if I turned around, I would be another missin’ man from abuela’s stories. The thought made me sick to the stomach, but I was here now. So one step at a time I kept going. I kept breathing. I was hyperaware of every movement I made. My fingers were goin’ numb, but my temples were slick with sweat, and when you’re like that, when your every sense is ticked up to its highest, you start to notice things. 

‘At first I thought they were stones or branches all littered through the grass. But then one of them strange ‘branches’ was wearin’ a riders glove. A little pale dome of rock was cracked and hollow. They were bones, strewn down the old road, one almost every foot. But I couldn’t turn around; I knew if I did, I’d be the next set lyin’ there with hollow sockets starin’ into the sky. So, shakin’ like a leaf, I kept going. 

‘After a while the silent road widened up, and the dirt was practically cobbled with white. The older, drier bones cracked under my feet with a sound that churned my stomach, and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I was lookin’ at my fate, I believed, and the horror kept me starin’. I was a tiny lapse in will from hurlin’ my guts or turnin’ back to whatever had my spine pricklin’. When I did finally look up I’d reached the end of the road.

‘A natural courtyard of dead, brown grass lay ahead of me, so wide that the moon shone down unhindered like a medical light; I could see clear as day, for better or for worse, and the sight made me whimper with horror. In the centre of the circle opposite me was a tree, gnarled and bleached so white it coulda been a bone itself. From one of its dead arms, a skeleton hung by a rope, whole and unbroken, obscured only by an old Stetson it wore on its head. The creak of that rope was the first sound I’d heard in that forsaken valley, and it filled my head. The sight of that unnatural, hanging skeleton had my skin shiver with bumps, and I got that sick foreboding in my stomach, that feeling that you’ve got in too deep, you pushed yer luck too far, and this is where you die.

‘The creeping panic began to set in now, and I didn’t know what to do; frozen to the spot with fear, I couldn’t take my eyes off the hanging skeleton, I couldn’t turn around and run, and all I could do was stand, and shake as cold tears ran down my cheeks. 

‘I don’t know how long I stood there, trapped by the shadow behind me, and the eerie skeleton in front of me, but after a while I found myself again. The only way I could settle my situation was to keep to my plan. That was the only thought that gave me strength. I had a goal, and I should complete it. Better that than end cryin’ and shakin’ in my boots. So I slowly moved forward again, as if in a trance. The bones on the ground were less scattered that those on the road. Full skeletons, maybe a hundred of them, lay in rings around the tree, although the area around it was as clean as a manicured lawn. I could see these folks had all died face down with their backs to the hanged man. Their skulls all had a hole in the left side, like the same bullet had gone through their heads in the same place. So I resolved I wouldn’t turn my back on the dead man, and I wouldn’t face the thing behind me.

‘Careful as a cat, I picked my way through the bones ‘til I were within a foot of the hanging man. The hand on the knife I intended to cut the rope with burned white knuckles. My body was on fire with cold and sheer terror, and as I drew closer, frost began to crawl up my blade. And then something hit my shoulder. Something warm, and loud as a drum in the deathly quiet. I looked up, and that’s when my spirit broke. Under his Stetson, the hanged man’s right eye-socket was full of blood. His cheekbone and teeth were streaked crimson with it, and it dripped as if his brain still lingered on behind somehow, bleedin’ for all eternity.

‘ I screamed and stumbled back. Don’t know when I dropped my knife, but all I could think of was that terrible eye. The panic had taken full grip now, and I couldn’t stop screamin’, or backing away, or looking at the thing. I don’t know how far away I got until I tripped, but I think the fall knocked a mite or two of sense back. In any case, I noticed what I’d tripped on. It was an ancient six-shooter pistol caked in rust, clasped in the hand of another skeleton – but this one were different. Around it, no other bones had fallen, and the bullet was in their forehead; whoever they were had died facing the hanged man, with a gun in their hand. I couldn’t think of a better end than that, so I scrambled to pick it up. And turned my back on him. It was only for a split second, but that was enough.

‘When I looked up, his head was raised. That bloody eye glowed, and the shadow, the one who’d been tailing my back, was wrapped around him like flesh. I heard whispers all around me, like the dead folk were tryin’ to talk. To this day, I do not know how I reacted so quick. Perhaps self-preservation. Perhaps fate of some kind. Perhaps it was the owner of the gun I held come to guide my hand against their final foe. But I snapped up that cocked six-shooter and shot the hanged man straight between the eyes.

‘The scream I heard will never leave my mind. It weren’t of this earth or by a human throat, that I am dead sure. The shadow writhed as the bones inside it rattled. The rope creaked and twisted, and I covered my ears as it howled louder. It’s skull tipped back, leaving its jaw open to scream, and then both the skeleton and the shadow shattered, and splintered across the boneyard. I daren’t move. I barely believed I was alive. So I crouched there, hands over my ears, until I realized I weren’t dead, but breathin’ and whole.

‘Then my eye caught on somethin’ on the ground. I thought it was a coal, or some kind of ruby, the way it glowed on the black grass. So with that six-shooter clenched in my hand, I crept back towards the tree. The shiver on my spine was gone, and even the air didn’t quite feel so wintry. I was emboldened by my luck or success, so, when I reached the foot of the tree where the bright thing had fallen, I decided it must be some sorta reward. I’d killed the evil, hadn’t I? I’d lifted some ancient curse. So I bent down and picked up that red sphere.

‘Only when I turned it in my hand, did I realize it was an eye. A crimson pupil on a scarlet sclera stared up at me, and I tried to throw it down again, but I couldn’t let go. Black spines shot out of its back, and it flew at my face. The last I remember of the valley was a deep, sick pain in my right eye socket, the sensation of hot blood pourin’ down my cheek and teeth, and the sound of my own screams bouncin’ off the rock.

‘I woke up a long time after that. The heat and the smell were what roused me, I think. It was like a bloated dead cow, but like a whole herd had died. I opened my eyes to blue above, and wheels of vultures instead of clouds. From the buildings that cut into the sky and the chime of the old clock, I knew I was back home, but how, and why I was layin’ in the town square, I weren’t sure. That rusted old six-shooter was still gripped in my hand like it was a lifeline, and the dead man’s Stetson was fixed on my head. I sat up as the clock’s noon chime kept ringin’, good and stuck. That’s…that’s when I saw them. The people of my town, strewn along the roads like litter, each of em haloed by a pool of their own blood, each of em shot through the left eye. Some had guns. Some were holdin’ others. Ridin’ Rose was there, with a look of such terror on her bloodied face, that I couldn’t think what she’d seen before she died.

‘I was panicked and scared, so I did what all little kids do when they’re panicked and scared: I ran home. As soon as I passed the stables, my colt began to scream and scream, white eyes rollin’, and I couldn’t calm him. The other horses and I could only watch as his heart gave out, and he dropped into the dust foamin’ at the mouth. I was cryin’ again by the time I reached the farmhouse, but I’d find no comfort there. I found my papi in the dinin’ room, but when he saw me, he went white at the eyes, and started shakin’ in his boots. 

‘ “Get out!” He yelled at me, as he stumbled tryin’ to back up. “Get out of this damn town _diablo!”_  
I didn’t know what was going on. I hadn’t even clicked on what I’d done till my ma came in with a shotgun.  
‘ “That ain’t no son of mine.” She snarled and cracked it loaded. “Whatever you are took my boy and my town. I’ll send you back to the dust you came from.”  
And that’s when the world went scarlet. Her finger on the trigger moved in slow motion, but my hand moved faster than it ever had. Before I could blink, before my ma could shoot, she was laid out on the ground, skull blown out through her eye. 

‘All I remember is papi wailin’ like he’d taken a bullet himself. I tried to drop the gun, but it wouldn’t leave my hand. So I ran. I ran back to the stables, grabbed papi’s saddled mare and rode. I think I rode straight into the desert, in the hope the heat might take me for my crimes. But we all know that ain’t the story.”

McCree’s voice had gone hoarse through the last minute, and as Hanzo watched his gaunt face in the light, a tear slipped down into his scruff, then another. Hanzo had no words worthy to meet what McCree had just told him or the trust he had placed on him, so Hanzo stood from the office chair, and brought a hand up to the man’s shoulder. McCree did not recoil, so he leaned in and wrapped him in the first genuine hug he had given anyone for many long years. McCree hiccoughed what might have been a sob, then clasped Hanzo against him so tightly that he could barely breathe. But that was alright, Hanzo thought as he stroked the man’s broad back, just like McCree had stroked his hair last night. 

Something tugged deep in his chest as he heard McCree try to stifle himself, so Hanzo leaned his cheek against McCree’s neck. He would not cheapen this by telling McCree he had not needed to say so much, because in a way it showed trust. And even if McCree shouted to the world that Hanzo had cried like a baby at the memory of his brother’s murder, he would not share this. Perhaps now he understood. Understood what McCree had felt when he saw Hanzo, weak and broken, and asked how he could look after him. So this was what feelings felt like. Not the _worst…_

McCree took a deep, shuddering breath, then eased off Hanzo’s shoulder, but did not hide his tear-streaked face. Vulnerable. That was when some layer of ice, possibly a well-cultivated glacier, shattered inside of Hanzo. McCree knew Hanzo’s reputation. His past. And still… Hanzo felt his schooled expression melt, and he took McCree’s face in his hands, that rough beard damp with tears.

“Jesse…” He barely whispered, and wiped his cheek with a thumb. McCree held his eyes, warm breath uneven, and Hanzo’s matched. Sparks lit up on Hanzo’s side as McCree’s fingers rested there, light as feathers. He realized, to hug McCree, he had moved between his thighs. A moment of tension, as taut as a drawn bow, as the silence sang between them, then – 

_Briiiiiiiiiing!_

Hanzo jumped at the bell, and the sudden breach of their bubble snapped his composure back. So he stepped out of McCree’s space, and gave a low bow.  
“Thank you. I will not betray your trust.” And with that, he strode out. 

McCree sat looking at the door even when Hanzo was well gone, as his cigar burned a black spot into the carpet where he’d dropped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Isn’t it fun how McCree’s story doesn’t have an obvious date? Food for thought ;)  
> Also this chapter was heavily inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBZeI8mWUl4); I would love for you all to listen to it, as it's awesome and provides A Mood!
> 
> Please leave a comment! :3 Even though I do say myself, this is a chapter I'm really proud of and would love to know what you thought! ^.^
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	34. Laminate the Evidence

Cooie. McCree pulled up the minivan and dragged a hand across his face. Felt like Zenyatta’d been teabagging him with his Depression and Serotonin balls all day.  
“There’s gotta be a better way about thinkin’ of ups n’ downs.” McCree sighed, and opened his door as the kids clambered out as well. Mm, someone in the neighbourhood was cooking up a delight, that was for sure. The sorta scent you always wished was comin from your own place, but knew weren’t.

But when McCree jingle-jangled into the house, he realized that he was a man being railed by a double whammy of luck: first, the drool-worthy scent filled their living room. Second, his drool-worthy fake husband was manning the kitchen like a battle station, all while wearing a black apron emblazoned with ‘Bitchin’ in the Kitchen’. McCree wondered if it was weird that that little detail made him sigh like a happy horse.  
“By the gods, what are you cooking?” Kimba trotted up to the kitchen island, and Toshiro followed.  
“Mm, smells good.”

Looked good too. There were little bowls of maybe pickle laid out, nuts, some thinly sliced beef…  
“Sorry, what was that?” Hanzo held up his phone, with a recording app open.  
“Oh, sorry, I said ‘Fuck You’.” Toshiro leaned in real close to say it, so Hanzo donked him lightly on the bridge of his nose with his phone.  
“Agh!” Toshiro squinted away the watering-eyes response, but the brat had kinda deserved that.  
“Ooh, is dinner soon?” Kimba went to poke at some white-dusted batter (hopefully with actual flour, and not pure cocaine), but her attempt was obliterated by a swift chop of a rice scooper in front of her fingers. McCree swore he had some sort of vision wherein the same motion spaghettified Genji. 

“Ah ah, homework, then Toshiro, you have lessons with me and Kimba you have music with Marcos.” Hanzo slapped the rice scooper against his palm, and McCree could suddenly see Hanzo as a full Yakuza boss, tossin’ orders left right and centre. If Angela ever let Morrison go to the great big corn field in the sky, Hanzo might not make a bad replacement. He could sure organize the rabble, with an air of elegant power rather than exhausted desperation.

“Are you threatening us with a rice scooper?” Toshiro scoffed, and Hanzo raised an eyebrow.  
“You do not want to know my proficiency with this.”  
“Does M-M-Marcos?” Kimba couldn’t get through the whole name without burstin’ into giggles, and McCree had to turn away to hide his smile.

Hanzo just slapped the scooper on a walnut on the bench. The nut exploded. McCree didn’t know what kinda symbolism that was, but he sure could appreciate it.  
“Yes. Now homework.” Hanzo leaned over and smacked the kitchen island top near where Toshiro was leaning, and the kid jumped away, with good reason. From Hanzo’s demonstration, if that’d hit, the kid might have t’ get an arm matching McCree’s. That’d be a sad prosthetic story: amputation by rice scooper.  
“Ok, ok, fine, jeez.” Toshiro eyed Hanzo’s weapon of choice warily, and the pair retreated off to spread their school shit all over the dining room table.

“I gotta say, that apron wouldn’t be more perfect on anyone.” McCree drawled, and nodded at the ‘Bitchin’ in the Kitchen’ logo emblazoned across Hanzo’s ample titties.  
“You must have donated some braincells to Gengyo, because he said the same thing when he gave it to me.” Hanzo breezed past on his way to grab some more ingredients, and the way he exuded Big Bitch Energy just made McCree grin. That and the fact that Hanzo could talk about Genji again without choking, tearing up slightly, and then downing six cups of sake.

“What?” Hanzo turned back, and McCree realized he was still smiling and staring, at Hanzo’s like a lovestruck puppy.  
“Just you. Yer somethin’.” McCree snickered and shook his head. Hanzo’s eyes flicked up and down him for a second, but his expression was curious rather than insulted. The moment from McCree’s office that day struck him self-conscious, where Hanzo had gazed at him with such softness in his eyes, and had been so close an’ kissable... 

So McCree glanced at the array of ingredients on the bench. A sheaf of paper caught his eye. It looked like maybe a list of some kind, but it was in Japanese, so he weren’t sure. The only thing that was obvious was that it was spattered with blood.

“Is this a hit list?” McCree’s eyebrows furrowed, and he picked up the worn paper.  
“Yes, Linda is right there at the top.” Hanzo pointed, but McCree was proud that he could pick up this man’s deadpan humour by now.  
“Well I’ll start collectin’ wood for the pyre, ‘cause fire’s the only way we’ll kill that witch.” McCree commented mildly, and was completely unprepared for Hanzo’s blazing grin, and hearty laugh. It was rich, and deep, and McCree felt like Hanzo had picked up his bow and shot him in the chest.  
“Now you understand.” Hanzo grinned, and clapped him on the back. The explosion of happiness in McCree’s stomach was so sudden that he got light headed. “But sadly this is really the noodle recipe.”

“Ah. Signed by the chef, I see.” He, in a daze, pointed at a bloodstain, and Hanzo shrugged.  
“They always say the kitchen is a cutthroat business.”  
“Maybe I should laminate this for, uh, biohazard reasons.” McCree laid the stained recipe on a patch of bench bereft of food, and to his surprise, Hanzo gave another amused chuckle.   
“What?”  
“I have heard of hiding the evidence and disposing of the evidence, but never _laminating_ the evidence.” Hanzo grinned, and by the desert sunset that was too much. His whole face just lifted into something content and youthful, and McCree’s lil cowboy heart was meltin’. Lucky he had a good pokerface, or his eyes would be hearts.

“Fuse it to the plastic, and who can prove it ain’t sauce?” McCree shrugged, and suddenly got hit by the mental image of Hanzo on trial in a courtroom, while some exasperated lawyer waved the bloodstained recipe with the signature _wob-wob_ lamination sound as Hanzo insisted in a complete deadpan that it was chilli.  
“There are ways, but it is a good idea for now.” Hanzo smirked, and his eyes went low-lidded. “I like talking crime with you.”

McCree suddenly felt far too hot, even for the summer day, and had to have a moment of recovery to stop himself spoutin’ a flustered nonsense reply. That moment of recovery happened to be about a second or two of prolonged eye contact, but hey, he was only human.  
“Well we can watch the usual later. I kinda look forward to it.” Their daily viewing of Crime Time was when Hanzo let his composure down more, and McCree always enjoyed seein’ his eyes light up talkin’ about murder.  
“As do I.” Hanzo smiled, then flicked a knife into his hand, and began to chop at a slightly horrific speed, given the fact that McCree knew he hadn’t cooked for himself for a good 70% of his life. What, then, he had learned to chop like that, was a mysterious and probably best unanswered question. That was another reason why he liked Hanzo, McCree supposed. Life weren’t fun without mysteries.

***

“You made even the noodles yerself?” McCree took another mouthful, and tried not to groan with delight. The noodles were all soft but not soggy, the sauce was rich, and the beef was cooked tender. Maybe Hanzo should go on one of them cookin’ shows McCree’d started to watch. Then again, bein’ an ex-Yakuza boss and all, maybe he shouldn’t.  
“Yes. Apparently, they are best made fresh.”  
“Well they’re amazin’. Who knew you were such an ace-high cook?” It didn’t go unnoticed to McCree that Hanzo’s smug look practically glowed, like he was tryin’ not to show A Single Emotion in front of people, but havin’ a difficult time with it. Flattery really was the key to this dragon’s smile, huh?  
“I will take ‘ace-high’ as a compliment.”  
“Ugh, I think I liked it better when y’all just stared.” Kimba was not deterred from her food by parental grossness, however. But that wasn’t what made McCree, Toshiro, and Hanzo all stop.

“Did…” Hanzo trailed off and squinted at McCree.  
“What?” Kimba glanced around all of them, confused, then shoved another forkful of noodles in her mouth.  
“You said ‘y’all’. Like hatboy.” Toshiro pointed at McCree, who simply raised an eyebrow.  
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” Kimba shrugged.  
“Because he’s a beard with an idiot hanging off it?” Toshiro came up with some good ones, didn’t he? But a look came over Hanzo’s face like his eyes were about t’ start glowing, so McCree jumped in before the quite literal lightning struck.

“And yer what happens when a Sourpatch Kid grows up, but go off I guess.” McCree chewed a nonchalant mouthful, and Kimba made a delighted chortle.  
“Ooh, cowboy dad firin’ from the hip there!” She waved at him for a hi-five, which McCree slapped.  
“Well, he hangs around Hideki, of course he’s gonna pick up some bitchiness.” Toshiro shot back, and none of them missed how Hanzo put down his chopsticks all gentle-like, and clasped his hands with a very dangerous expression.

“Oooh shit.” Kimba giggled, and stirred around her noodles.  
“You are in a bad mood.” Hanzo said in a honeyed tone with undercurrents of death. “That means you are troubled. Shall we go and talk about your feelings, Toshiro-chan? Little father to son heart to heart?”  
Toshiro recoiled with genuine horror. “No! What the fuck?”  
“Come on, it will be healthy.” Hanzo’s fake cheerfulness was triggering McCree’s flight response. Unnatural. Weird. Run. 

“Maybe there’s a girl you like at school? Or a handsome – “  
“No! No, sorry Marcos! You’re not an idiot. Please make him stop that!” Toshiro looked as unnerved as McCree felt, so he shrugged.  
“Eh, he apologized.”  
“Delightful.” Hanzo smiled in a draconian way that showed far too many teeth, and McCree got literal chills. Then Hanzo picked up his chopsticks, and McCree realized that nobody at the table had dared eat before he’d stopped whatever…that had been. Talk about captivating an audience.

All of a sudden, a very loud Kamehameha snapped McCree back out of Hanzo’s power hypnosis.  
“Scuse me…” McCree checked it. What could Genji need at this time o’ night? From their Blackwatch days, McCree could actually make a list of mentally scarring things Genji often ran out of at night-time, but he’d lived in vain hope that he’d never have to revisit it.

From: Goku

You should have told me ur parents were in town! Ur dad’s huge btw.

“Ah.” McCree stopped, halfway out of his seat. Thank goodness. But also, Morrison hadn’t informed them of a check-in. Maybe that was on purpose.  
“What?” Hanzo cocked his head, no doubt curious about what his brother wasn’t sayin’ to both of them.  
“My…uh ma and pa are here.” McCree glanced at the kids. He was fairly sure, Genji was tryin’ to tell him his ‘dad’ was Reinhardt, and Ana would likely be with him. Morrison hadn’t given them a brief on this, so McCree supposed they’d have to wing it.

“Your…parents.” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed, and McCree could almost see the cogs a-turnin’.  
“I think I showed you a picture last year. My old man’s real tall an’ built like a brick shitter – “  
“Do not use the language of your Australian friends around the children.”  
“ – and my ma’s one eye down.” McCree finished, and tried to hold down a smile at Hanzo’s real Disapproving Wife tone.  
“I think I remember. Should I make more…” Hanzo gestured with a Gracious Host Hand at their almost finished meal. Kinda sweet of him t’ offer really, given how much work it’d looked.  
“You haven’t met Marcos’ parents?” Kimba asked, big brown eyes wide.  
“I have not been here long.” Hanzo gave a good answer as any as McCree texted Genji back.

From: Marcos

They comin’ over to my place?

From: Goku

Of course! Said they’d be round in five.

From: Marcos

Do they need feedin’?

From: Genji  
I don’t think ur mom would do that to you. U know ur dad eats the entire contents of a fridge as a snack

“They’ve eaten.” McCree informed his fake husband. “But they’ll be over in five.”  
“I…see.” Hanzo brushed himself down, as if he was self-conscious all of a sudden. Oh. It suddenly hit McCree. They weren’t McCree and Hanzo, and Ana and Reinhardt weren’t Ana and Reinhardt. They were the ma and pa (adopted, McCree assumed) of some distant son who’d disappeared to Japan for a few years, married a man they didn’t know, adopted two kids on his return, and was now a schoolteacher. Hanzo was some stranger who, by all means, had coerced their son into marriage with his good looks to acquire a green card, but Marcos would probably try to conceal that little nugget.

“Oh dayum.” Toshiro sniggered into his food, and Kimba shot him a confused look.  
“What?”  
“Gold-digger and Manther have to pretend they’re normal human beings. Ha!” Toshiro clapped, then slurped up more noodles. “This is going to be amazing.”  
“You had better behave.” McCree waved a finger at them, and took a deep breath as nerves simmered in his stomach all of a sudden. He’d never had to deal with this. Sure, he’d had squeezes in the past, on the road, after missions, bar flings… but his sorta life either came with no steady home, or a top secret military base that woulda got any of his lovers who knew about it probably turned into a fine red mist via double handheld shotguns. But Hanzo weren’t actually his lover. Or husband. But still. For some weird reason, he did want to do this proper. Make sure Ana and Reinhardt somehow…liked Hanzo.

“You ever…done the meeting the parents thing?” McCree fidgeted his belt that read DILF today (probably should change that), and glanced at his fake husband. If Marcos and Hideki had been real, at least Marcos coulda taken some comfort in how much of a looker his magpie of a man was. Hanzo was certainly presentable: neat, fashion-conscious, healthy-lookin’, and showed no signs of being a spree murderer who kept cocaine in the attic. 

“Many times.” Hanzo’s reply and tight-lipped smile made McCree’s eyebrows reach for the sky. “My family were still great believers in arranged marriages. With my good looks and potential, I was very popular. I can be as gracious as any situation requires.”

Hanzo tossed his head with easy charm, but he looked like he saved himself from getting Too Real by fastidious swanning. McCree could read between the lines. The Yakuza seemed all about business, family ties, and whatnot. As the heir, then Boss, he supposed a marriage to Hanzo woulda been an opportunity to climb higher on the rungs.

Fer some reason, the thought trickled up behind McCree’s eye and made it itch. Hanzo bein’ pawned off for business. Hanzo probably bein’ ok with a logical, loveless marriage. It just…felt wrong.  
“Well at least one of us knows the ropes.” McCree glanced at the alcohol cabinet, then thought better. It was only Ana and Reinhardt. It would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More crazy characters about to get thrown into this chaotic mess! :3 What sort of parents do you think Ana and Reinhardt will be? Hehe :3 if u guess correct, ur a legend ;)
> 
> Sorry about the late, but my update schedule is prob gonna be more unpredictable from now on :( Please bear with!! And please leave a comment to tell me what you thought! :D thank you so much for all your previous comments, they always make my day! n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	35. Yeehaw Unlimited

“My darling Marcos, it’s been too long!” Ana squeezed McCree’s cheek, then pulled him into a reluctant hug. Hanzo hoped the hugs weren’t mandatory, or his dragons may use an electrical defence. And the children may have questions if it appeared as though he had tazed their grandmother upon first contact.

“Yeah, I guess so.” McCree shot her a bland smile, as Hanzo stood ready to present himself and the children near the kitchen island.  
“Guess so? You don’t call for months, then you fly off to Japan, and I don’t hear from you for years, dear!” Ana was really into her role wasn’t she?  
“Well I – “  
“And then when I hear you’re back, you’re _married_ of all things with children! Where are they then?” Ana swept forward and cooed in delight as she spotted them. “Aren’t you darlings! Here you go, for you and you…”

She handed both children a bundle of sweet things, then held out a bottle of sake to Hanzo.  
“I understand you like to drink.”  
Hanzo knew he was not an Overwatch favourite, but if Ana wanted to shout _“Kiai!”_ in the road at him, he would draw his sword.  
“Tea, but I suppose that was on the right hand side of the email.” Hanzo smiled cordially, as McCree’s toothpick fell out of his mouth, he was so shocked. Little did Hanzo know that not many people survived making eye jibes around Ana.

Kimba gasped, and even Toshiro’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Too far’ was not a phrase Hanzo knew, as Genji would attest.  
“Ma, I – “  
“I like this one.” Ana gave an approving nod, and Hanzo quirked a lip. “Can’t have you marrying a wet blanket.”  
“Oh, ok.” McCree practically wheezed as Hanzo happily put his sake on the bench. “Also, where’s pa?”  
“Oh, he’s just getting some stuff from the – “

“Marcos!” Reinhardt burst in, and Hanzo couldn’t help but stare. It was not that the giant’s head literally scraped the ceiling. It was not how out of place he seemed in a civilian environment. It was the fact that a curved cowboy hat sat on his head, a plaid shirt stretched like an obscene anime blouse across his giant chest, and spurs that could probably impale a man rattled on his huge cowboy boots. A belt that read GILF matched McCree’s that read DILF. Dragons above, there were two of them. You must be strong, Hanzo. 

He glanced at the children. The children glanced at him. Kimba barely came up to above Reinhardt’s knee, and her eyes were like saucers. Hanzo supposed the in her mind, she was looking at the Original Model Cowboy. The Source. 

“Howdy!” Reinhardt waved, and Hanzo had to forcefully stop his eyebrows at the odd American accent he’d replaced his usual German with. “If it ain’t ma boy!”  
Reinhardt beamed and picked up McCree in his huge arms. McCree looked like he’d just been handed a million dollars.  
“Pa! Ain’t I always sayin’ you got an impeccable sense o’ fashion?” McCree grinned, suspended from Reinhardt’s biceps.  
“Ain’t you always!” Reinhardt boomed back and put the cowboy down. “This must be your family! Yeehaw!”

Hanzo heard McCree give a bad cough to cover the fact that he was practically in hysterics, but was more distracted by the half ton of man headed his way.  
“I am Hideki.” He bowed before Reinhardt could heft him skyward and smother him in his plaid-covered titties.  
“I’m Randy!” Reinhardt gave him so much of a friendly slap on the arm that only Hanzo’s absolutely absurd core strength kept him from flying into the kitchen island. Why Reinhardt had chosen to share that particular personal detail with him, he wasn’t sure.

“Er…”  
“His name.” Ana supplied in a friendly whisper at his disturbed look, and Hanzo could tell the mischievous hag was in hysterics on the inside too.  
“Ah.” Why had Morrison allowed this? That name in _particular_.  
“You treat ma son good? Give him the _rrrr_?” Reinhardt slapped a hand on his own bicep and punched towards the ceiling. McCree buried his face in his hands in the hallway behind him, possibly bright red, possibly suffocating from trying not to explode with laughter. Hanzo stopped, mouth half open, then shut it again. Never had his father included lessons about whatever the shit this situation was.

“I…suppose?” Hanzo managed out.  
“Yeehaw! Well ain’t that a boot-knockin’ time?” Reinhardt grinned, then squatted down so that the children at least came up to his chest. “These are the McBabies then!”  
McCree exploded into coughs, gasped ‘scuse me’ and fled to the kitchen sink to get himself a glass of water.

“If you call me that again, I will – hrk!” Toshiro choked slightly as Hanzo elbowed him in a pressure point. He doubted Toshiro could threaten Reinhardt in any meaningful way, however. One strategy was kicking him in the balls, but Hanzo knew for a fact that Toshiro couldn’t get his leg high enough for that.

“I’m Kimba!” Kimba breathed with the air of meeting a god. “You’re huge!”  
“Yeah, my pa’s huge, my ma’s kinda tiny, an’ I’m in between.” McCree, recovered, earned a heated side-eye at calling Ana ‘kind of tiny’ when she was taller than Hanzo.  
“This is Toshiro.” Hanzo gestured at their tsundere son, their son-dere if you would, and felt a flicker of pride as Toshiro gave a jerky bow.

“Oh, is he yours? You do look alike.” Ana scrunched up her nose, with full knowledge that she was just causing trouble.  
“Yes, I technically own him and he does my bidding – “  
“Ha, he’s a hoot ain’t he?” McCree cut across Hanzo’s sass, and clapped Ana on the shoulder. “Er, tea? Coffee?”  
“Coffee!” Reinhardt exclaimed. “Double grits, double whiskey, proper ranch style!”  
“Yeah, proper ranch style.” McCree’s tone bubbled with a laugh he was trying to keep down, and despite the weird situation, Hanzo liked seeing him smile so much. It made his eyes crinkle, and his tan-dark skin made his teeth flash white. A weird nauseous feeling churned in Hanzo’s gut. Maybe he’d screwed up the noodles or something.

“Just tea for me. Now we won’t keep you too long tonight, but you must let us take you out for dinner tomorrow. All of you. I finally have grandchildren, and I want to spoil them.” Ana took an all-too comfortable seat at their kitchen island, as Reinhardt sat on the floor. At least he was at a reasonable height down there.  
“Well – “ McCree glanced at Hanzo, but was over-ridden.

“Oh Marcos, it’s been years, and all your dear, _ageing mother_ wants is to hear about your wonderful time in Japan, how you met this handsome fellow and your darling kids… It’s so nice you’ve settled down. Found love… it’s a mother’s dream to see her little boy find such a loving, caring husband – “  
“Ok, ok, ma, dinner it is, just stop waxin’.” McCree snorted, and poured hot water as Toshiro discovered it was his turn to try and not dissolve into hysterics. Ana looked supremely pleased with herself. So Hanzo thought, why not throw his own chips in?

“If you have any photos of Marcos’ childhood, I would love to see them.” He raised a neat eyebrow at McCree’s incredulous expression.  
“Oh, Hideki my dear, I’m sure I can find something!” Ana took her tea, which a troublemaker’s smirk.  
“Oh, well, ya don’t – “  
“When he was a little cowbaby, I put a saddle on my back and he used to ride me around like a horse.” Reinhardt beamed. “Remember? You were so small it was like the real thing!”  
McCree dragged a hand over his face as both Kimba and Toshiro grinned.  
“Hideki sugar, yain’t got any parents I can invite over t’ embarrass ya, do you?”  
“No, they are quite dead.” Hanzo said cheerfully. “Now tell me more about this childhood on the ranch.”

***

“Y’all’re the worst, you know that?” McCree waved a finger at the three stinkin’ coyotes that took far too much joy in seein’ this legend of a man get jibed. The kids had been sent off t’ bed at their usual time so now McCree could discover what this visit were really about.  
“Except you.” He stopped at Reinhardt, who beamed. “Jus’ for the belt, you can stay.”  
“Yes, it must have been a mission to find the pimp that makes those.” Hanzo raised a judgemental eyebrow. Ana kinda choked, but Reinhardt didn’t even try and stop his laugh.

“Ahaha! I don’t think Torb has been called a pimp before!”  
“Torbjörn…made…” Hanzo squinted, and seemed a little disturbed.  
“ _Randy’s_ belt, maybe.” McCree shrugged.  
“You know that just leaves more questions.”  
“Maybe, but the big question is what y’all’re doin’ here.” McCree crossed his arms, and glanced up to see a shadow creep up to the window over Ana’s shoulder. Luckily, it was a shadow he recognized, so didn’t get a steak knife hurled in its direction. Genji pressed his hands and metal face against the window, in plain sight of both Hanzo and McCree.

“I think he wants in.” McCree pulled out a toothpick and chewed it in placed of his cigar.  
“Oh, I’m sure he does. He’ll have you running around after him if you always give in though.” Hanzo picked a very shiny nail, and pointedly ignored Genji, who began to scratch at the window. McCree wondered why in the Sam Hill Hanzo kept his nails so darn pristine. All the reasons he could think of fer keepin’ them so nice were down in the gutter, and hoo boy, if he climbed down there with Hanzo on his mind, even a Life Alert® wouldn’t help him get back up again. Although archery was a safe one. Maybe it was to do with archery.

“Oh look at him.” Ana turned around, as Genji somehow looked dejected and forlorn without any facial features.  
“Bad. Pesky bastard boy.” Hanzo pulled out his phone, and McCree saw over his shoulder that he speedialled Genji. Genji waved, and picked it up on his headset. Hanzo leaned in real close.  
“Open the window, mothbrain. We know you can.” And then he hung up. McCree couldn’t help a snort of laughter at the ineloquent insult that he wouldn’ta pinned for Hanzo Use.

“Aww. Mean.” Reinhardt went over to the window, and unclasped it. Genji happily bounced inside, and sat on the kitchen counter.  
“Tch.” Hanzo rolled his eyes as Reinhardt patted the ninja on the head.  
“What a mean big brother you have.” The giant cooed.  
“I know. I deserve icecream, don’t I?” Genji sure as heck had on a pout under there, and swung his legs like a kid. Reinhardt melted like a California popsicle.  
“Yes! I brought some when I came!” Reinhardt barrelled over to the fridge-freezer combo as Hanzo dragged a hand across eyes that had probably seen this little shit wheedle all kinds o’ things outta people. 

“Zayarvar couldn’t make it tonight. This Shambali temple has never had such a high calibre guest, and they wanted to see if they could reach the astral plane with him.”  
“Oh, the astral plane?” Ana made a noise of genuine curiosity. They’d all heard of Zenyatta’s prowess, but McCree himself had never seen the height of what he could do.  
“Yeah, I’ve been trying for years and the only times I can get there is when I cheat and use my dragon.” Genji sighed, and McCree had to admit, this was one of the weirder conversations. But they could jaw about that later.

“Anyway…” McCree picked up as Genji was handed a bowl of ice-cream and a spoon. “What’s this visit about?”  
“First thing’s first,” Genji hissed off his faceplate and inhaled a giant spoon of hokey pokey. “where we goin’ f’ dis family dimmer? The same – “ He swallowed, “ – place the happy husbands went to on their date night?”  
“No!” McCree and Hanzo nearly shouted at the same time, as Ana’s eyebrows flew up.

“Date night? Oh, do tell. Is romance really budding?” She was teasin’ but all the same, a dizzying adrenaline shot hit McCree’s gut as she called his crushing ass out completely. It was not like he could help it. Hanzo was a rich bitch, but he had biceps on his abs and was somehow impressive and endearing even at Maximum Bastard. But that all passed by behind McCree’s usual squint. In front of Ana, he had t’ let nothin’ slip, cause nothing would slip past her.

“Please. We are taking this seriously.” Hanzo replied, cool as a Yakuza cucumber. “That was mandated, and is not family friendly.”  
“Aw, c’mon cousin. We could eat a four course banquet off Randy’s luscious body.” Genji gestured at the giant with his ice-cream spoon, and McCree had to very suddenly banish the vivid mental image of the cyborg licking mostly melted ice-cream off Reinhardt’s abs.  
“How did you – “  
“Googled it.” Genji stuck his spoon in his mouth and sucked it with an obscene pop.  
“Ah! You ate off McCree!” Reinhardt a) seemed oddly happy about this, and b) thought _he_ would be the platter? Then again, McCree supposed that if they’d been forced into it and Hanzo told him to strip, drape himself on a table and get slathered in BBQ sauce or whatever, he really wouldn’t say no. But Hanzo’s tiddies would, subjectively, make better plates. Jiggly. Big.

“No, I do not like ranch.” Hanzo deadpanned, and Genji choked on his ice-cream. Even McCree snapped out of his daydream t’ smile at that.  
“What he’s sayin’ is we politely declined that, but it still is a strictly couples eatery.”

“I know a good place! It’s out the way, so we shouldn’t look too conspicuous.” Genji offered and Hanzo raised a neat eyebrow.  
“Hm. Could we not just eat at my café? And avoid whatever…that will result in?” Hanzo made a fair point after their last experience.  
“Aw, have a little faith in your cousin.” Ana crinkled her nose at ice-cream-smeared Genji, who practically beamed. Hanzo looked displeased but not unused to Genji gettin’ his way all the time, so McCree caught his eye and just shrugged. They’d made it through the last one. Hanzo sighed, but looked a little happier at the solidarity.

“So trivial matters aside: your visit.” Hanzo got to the point McCree had been tryin’ to push.  
“Well, our mail is being checked, so we had to come down ourselves.” Ana sighed.  
Ah. Someone was hackin’ Overwatch again.  
“You have to stop your postcards immediately. We will come and go as our cover allows to share information.” Ana gestured at herself and Reinhardt. Must be full security lockdown then to get that old fashioned. “It seems like this situation is more important to our rivals than we thought.”  
Great. Talon were hot on their tails and not coolin’ down. They’d have t’ be extra vigilant.

“I also wanted to share two happier stories.” Ana clasped her hands together, and looked so grandmotherly in her scarf, cardigan and knitted eyepatch that McCree could hardly believe she was a pro sniper. “Firstly, your sister is almost fully recovered.”  
“Thank the red desert.” McCree sighed, as Genji nodded. Fareeha. That was a weight off his mind. He hadn’t even been able t’ ask about her, since their reports were one way. “Send her my best when ya can.”  
“Of course.” Ana beamed, then motioned to Reinhardt. He squeezed past Genji to slot in behind her, and picked up her hand in his massive paw. Ana’s hand looked like a doll’s in his.  
“Aww, is that cover practise? Because it’s adorable, keep it in.” Genji nodded and stirred the last of his melted ice cream goop.  
“Not quite.” Ana smiled, then looked up at Reinhardt who smiled back. “We’re getting married.”

Genji dropped his spoon with a clatter. McCree’s eyebrows shot up. The only one who seemed unsurprised was Hanzo, and he looked suspicious more than anything.  
“Wow. Congrats y’all, I…I didn’t think y’all’d actually do it.” McCree had noticed somethin’ between them for a while, but romance and agent work could be a very good mix or an absolutely awful, even deadly one. He side-eyed Hanzo. Yup, they would probably end up murderin’ each other over interior decorating if things went that way. Oh well. There were worse ways to go. Especially if Hanzo just bodyslammed him and turned him into fine red mist with those rock hard abs.

“We realized after the last mission, that, well, life’s too short to mess around.” Ana said in her usual matter of fact way. Reinhardt just tucked a lock of hair behind her ear like he were the luckiest man in the world.  
“Indeed. Congratulations on your engagement. I hope you will be happy.” Hanzo shook both of their hands, but was almost bowled over as Genji flung himself at the pair, arms wide open.  
“This is the best moment of my life!” Genji practically wept, and squeezed them. “Apart from the time Hanzo – “  
“Do you wish for death?”  
“Nevermind! Can I be a bridesmaid?”

“Of course.” Ana patted him on the arm, and Reinhardt dipped to bump his forehead against Ana’s. McCree’s chest glowed but ached too at that little intimate gesture. In this job it was scary t’ get attached, but then again, why be lonely? Why not steal any happiness ya could find?  
“I’m real glad for ya.” He nodded, and clapped em both on the arm.

***

That night, after Hanzo had wished him a good sleep and proceeded to flatten himself facedown onto the mattress like a happy basking snake, McCree didn’t turn over and try to drift off. Dangerous thoughts were all a-bouncin’ around his head after all that with Rein and Ana. What in tarnation do you want, Jesse? His pants took 0.5 seconds to answer that question. Maybe he shouldn’t think about this while ogling Hanzo’s bulging traps. Maybe ya shouldn’t be thinking about this at all. Head in the mission. Ana and Reinhardt weren’t in such deep cover. They could afford to have a personal life. Mission first, then McCree could woo the Hanzo. Nice way of putting it off, yer coward.

But putting it off was exactly what he should be doin’. That was a hard pill t’ swallow given he might have t’ lie next to this beautiful bastard for maybe even a year and yearn. But if he blew it with Hanzo, then he’d blow the mission, and chances are Goth Gabe would find them and probably blow someone’s head off with a shotgun as he was wont to do. So McCree ignored the heat and hunger of his body, rolled over, and lay awake frustrated for a long time before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever think of how Big reinhardt is…like in the hero poster lucio can literally skate under his legs... big…  
> Also if you want unnecessary and cursed context for the child+parent saddle click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jP5zOi676O0) at own peril.
> 
> I am also Highly Sick, so updates may be all over the place x.x bear with I beg!
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	36. Murder, But Sexy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unnecessary Silliness

McCree strode along a hallway in the Overwatch Gibraltar base hall at some heinous morning hour. Morrison, in probably a sleep-deprived delirium, had called a meeting that most likely aligned with his internal clock and sleeping patterns, but nobody else’s this side of Turkey. Anyway, it had been Mega Priority, so McCree had bothered with pants and his boots at least – 

The cowboy stopped and frowned as a noise tugged on the edge of his hearing, then looked down at the door he was beside. Hanzo. The rooms were sound-proofed thanks to Reinhardt’s snoring. So he shouldn’t be hearing anything. But he could. Loud J-Pop being sung at the top of a very strong pair of lungs, in fact. Hanzo was even doing the instruments. Had he finally cracked? McCree supposed it had only been a matter of time, but he couldn’t leave Hanzo to go bonkers by himself so he tapped on the door.

“Hanzo?”  
The singing stopped, but the lock light flashed green.  
“McCree! Come in.” The room com called. McCree didn’t think he’d ever heard the man in such a good mood, so he pressed the door, happily curious. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found inside. 

Hanzo had draped himself like some sort of pinup model over what looked like a bed made entirely from dollar bill wads. A silk bathrobe hung loose around his shoulders, _barely_ tied, and his hair fell in a glorious, messy cascade. McCree opened his mouth. He closed it, and tried not to stare (but failed) at Hanzo’s strong thighs and the way both his shoulders were revealed like a whore undressin’. So this was what propositioning Hanzo was like. Ok. Yup. McCree woulda settled for the usual ‘ey, wanna fuck?’ tactic, but he should have known Hanzo would be extra about everything. Not that he was complainin’, if that’s what this was. It could be a usual Tuesday morning routine for Hanzo: Step 1: get up. Step 2: lie mostly naked on The Money Bed and feel Gorgeous. Step 3: breakfast. It checked out, to be honest.

“Come on.” Hanzo smiled and beckoned with a pile of fresh fifties at a dazed McCree. It wasn’t easy to resist a mostly naked, musclebound archer on a bed of money beckoning him with about one thousand dollars, it had to be said. 

“Hanzo!” He tried with a confused smile, threw all fucks to the wind and stepped into the money den. “What – how – I…”  
Then he noticed the glass pipe, tea light and chunks of white blocks.  
“Is that cocaine?!” Wh – how had Hanzo managed to sneak _crack_ into a secret Overwatch base in the middle of the ocean? Why even…before his incredulity or eyebrow raise could reach critical levels, he strode forward, hand outstretched to snatch the drugs away.

With incredible speed, the archer grabbed McCree’s hand, threw him down on the money bed and wrestled him into some kind of martial arts hold.  
“Hey! Let go of me Nip-Slip!” McCree barked and struggled, but Hanzo was like a vice. Great. Captured by a mostly naked, high, pro-assassin. Wonderful.

“No, you stay.” Hanzo said mildly, then squished his cheek against McCree’s. “I like you.”  
He practically purred, and McCree became very aware that he was lyin’ between Hanzo’s bare legs. Powers forbid, he was gettin’ hard with Hanzo goin’ full hoe – and to an experienced bank robber like himself, this money pile was kinda doin’ it too.  
“Ya like me?” McCree breathed, and tried to keep his voice steady. “As in – “

Hanzo shifted one arm around McCree’s neck so as t’ heat his pipe over a tealight and take another drag.   
“As in…” A hot tongue lapped at his ear, and McCree couldn’t help how his breath hitched, and back arched into the archer’s growin’ coke-and-cowboy boner. “I _want_ you.”  
He growled that word, and even the gross drugs didn’t cool McCree off. He’d never known how much he’d wanted t’ hear that till now. He’d never known how much he’d wanted to grind himself on Hanzo’s cock until now. So he gave a little roll of his hips. 

“Mmm, big boy. Good boy.” Hanzo chuckled, seemingly pleased with them both, then shivered at a euphoric spike hit. McCree hated the drugs, but his love for that dick was just too great. He moaned, and rolled his ass back, and as he did, everything got a bit fuzzy at the edges. The heat in his groin and the hardness on his ass was all he could feel.

“Why – “ McCree heard himself say. “ – are you high? In a pile of money?”  
“Bucket list.” Oddly, Hanzo didn’t seem to be grindin’ on his ass back. “I never had a badboy phase, y’know? Always stuck up and obedient. Maybe it’s about time.”   
“No, no, yer wrong – “  
“I’m never wrong, and I’m invincible!” Hanzo laughed beneath him. “Ooh, I wonder what my dragons are like on coke! _Ryu ga -_ ”  
“Wait no – “

McCree jumped awake, his own little gasp the first thing he heard, and a fully raging boner the first thing he felt, immense confusion the second. What in _tarnation?_ Wet dreams were the weirdest shit. If that’d been a wet dream and not some Sins Of Hanzo fusion nightmare. McCree’s skin stuck to the tangled sheets with sweat, and something hard and hot pressed up against his back and ass. Hard more than hot. So that’s what he’d been feelin’ in his dream. His depraved side thanked the stars, because Hanzo’s boner made his ass squeeze, it felt so good. He’d take that on a pile of money any day, or every day. Fuck, he was dyin’ to come on it.

McCree was about to crawl away to the bathroom and exploit then erase Hanzo’s… _reaction_ from his mind, because the man may never talk to him again if he heard about it, when he noticed two things. One: Hanzo usually slept on his face, but tonight had Assumed the Spooning Position. Two: Hanzo usually conquered 80% of the bed for Japan, and left McCree on a fucking ledge. Right now, McCree could stretch his arm out in front of him and then some. Shit. That meant McCree’s cowboy ass had gone out in search of Hanzo’s dragon all on its own. McCree swallowed with a very dry throat as his jeans stretched tight over his weird wet-dream wood. Ok. This was very much his fault. But – 

Then he noticed a third thing. Hanzo was still. Too still. Well, not still enough to be dead, but still enough that McCree might be in the next few seconds. _Fuck._ What did he do here? Clear his throat? Say ‘Ahem, sorry about grinding on you like a teenager in a club, I’ll just go back to sleep now’? Just pretend to be asleep? But Hanzo had probably felt him jump awake. Roll over and share his wanton slutty Yakuza drug-lord dream? Because that would sure go down a treat. McCree shut his eyes again to try and come up with something, but his brain and body were both traitorous, desperately randy bastards and didn’t want anything that didn’t include a hard railing from that Good Dick pressed against his ass. But time had not stopped while McCree wrestled with his boner.

“Um…” Hanzo started in a sleep-wrecked voice, which just made the pants situation worse. He supposed that if Hanzo tried to shift backwards, he might actually fall out of bed, so they were stuck till McCree moved. Eagles above, McCree really shoulda just jacked it in the bathroom sometime to avoid this.  
“Are you awake yet?”  
“Mmg.” That ‘yet’ mortified McCree to the core, so he pretended that he hadn’t snapped wide awake like he’d been electrocuted, and only then considered that he may get electrocuted for doing so.  
“Move ove – “

_Thump._

They both went rigid in their awkward spooning situation at the noise downstairs. Talon weren’t the saviours McCree woulda called on, but they were as good as any. He rolled over, with his weight even between his arms and toes to keep the mattress quiet. Hanzo was already by their bedroom door, a faint blue glow on his arm as he listened. McCree tried not to notice how he was only in his black fabric boxers, and they didn’t really hide much. Man, that was quite the dick he had there.

Hanzo made a motion that meant the intruders were still downstairs, then signed that he would leave through the window and flank from the perimeter, and McCree would cut off their route to the stairs. McCree nodded, and clicked Peacekeeper ready; he hadn’t even noticed himself pick it up – sometimes that happened. Once Gabe had exasperatedly confiscated about eight guns from him, because McCree’d just absently scooped em up as he went (even from other people’s holsters) when he was nervous. He handed Hanzo an ear com as the man slipped his bow from its night-time home under the bed, and they went their separate ways.

Without his spurred boots (or cowboy ugg boots), McCree was absolutely silent as he left their bedroom. Over his patrols, he’d mapped every creak and groan in the floor and stairs, and avoided them with ease. From what he could hear and see in the dark, the agents were on the first floor, searching with torches. None of em had Reaper’s goth-boot clomp clomp, and Widow would use a torch over her dead body, so it looked like the small fry’d been sent in, praise the sun. But McCree didn’t dare let his guard down. This seemed almost too obvious, like it was bait. Though Hanzo was on perimeter, so if agents went for the kids’ windows, he’d pick em off.

With calm, silent breaths to the shift of his steps, McCree prowled down the hallway like a hunting tiger. No shapes (human, emo vape cloud, or otherwise) presented themselves, so he took the chance to report.  
“2A clear.” He whispered to Hanzo with the room code that meant ‘hallway’.  
“Zero M clear, 2B and C full, two live 1A.” Hanzo replied that the perimeter appeared clear and the kids were still in their rooms, but two hostiles were in the living room. That made McCree’s gut turn. 

There weren’t no way that Talon would just send two recon agents to a house they suspected. Which meant the perimeter couldn’t be clear. But Hanzo weren’t one to slack. They had cameras and laser tripwires hooked up to their phones, even thermal in case of Sombra, and nothin’ had pinged.

“Approaching.” McCree slid his back up against the wall of the staircase, and crept down. It was a straight line down to their lounge with no cover, so he could only hope the dark could hide could hide him well enough.  
“1A window breach. I can engage. Authorize?” Hanzo hissed in his ear as McCree peeked his head around the corner. The streetlamp outside bathed the living room in a warm amber light. Hanzo was right; the window had been jacked wide open, and the culprits were plain to see, even without McCree’s eye. 

The first, with its back to McCree, was a tall omnic, dressed from head to foot in dark gear. The second, a human, had their back to the window, and were dressed the same but had their attention off the stairs for now. Dang. If McCree went for the omnic, the other agent would see him. He could shoot em both, but he’d rather do this quiet-like. So Hanzo better be ready, because the best answer t’ this was a double team.

“Go!” McCree hissed, but he was too close to the agents to go unheard. The omnic turned, but not before McCree got his metal fingers hooked under its chin and gave an almighty heave. It’s head came off with a short metallic screech, but honestly, there weren’t a quiet way to kill an omnic when ya couldn’t see its make.

“Hey –! “ The other agent didn’t make it half a step before Hanzo’s dark silhouette of Death flashed through the window like an owl after a mouse. Strong hands caught the agent’s head, Hanzo flicked his wrists, and there was a sick _crack._ The agent fell dead, but Hanzo caught them with his beefy, neck-snappin’ arms before they thumped against the floor. 

Well McCree hoped that ghost might find consolation in being part of one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his life. McCree just stared, and felt his nipples and lower belly go tight as Hanzo stared back, eyes wide at him and the omnic’s head in his hand. His mouth was half open as if he’d been about to comment, and his boxers leaned out somethin’ obscene. 

McCree knew he should send Hanzo out to do another perimeter scout, but all he could think about was that Hanzo was at 100% dicking down capacity, and McCree was at 100% readiness to be dicked down. Also that the last thing that poor agent Hanzo’d killed had probably felt on this green earth was an assassin’s awkward boner. But there were worse ways. So McCree kept starin’. And so did Hanzo.

“Uh – “  
“Marcos?” Kimba’s sleepy lil voice piped up from her bedroom door, and McCree snapped out of his hypnotism.   
“Hm, you hear that? Metal or something.” Toshiro’s mumble chimed in. Shit. Both he and Hanzo glanced up, then at the bodies on the floor in synchronized horror. He slammed the omnic’s head under a couch pillow to re-activate and interrogate later, and Hanzo grunted as he hefted the dead agent up to try and drag to the kitchen. But there weren’t time - to hide the bodies and to explain all this: The open window, the gun in his jeans, the headless omnic shell frozen in place, the dead guy, the pair of them downstairs and half dressed… 

Maybe it was the state of McCree’s brain, but he had an idea. He lowered the omnic on to the ground with Peacekeeper, where they had a good chance of being blocked by the couch, and motioned Hanzo to the same with the dead agent. He did so with a mighty heft, and a little spark of warmth lit up McCree’s belly as Hanzo trusted him without question. Well, that might change. He heard footsteps in the hall and took a deep breath.  
“Distraction.” Was all he managed before he strode across the room, slid his arm around Hanzo’s slender waist, and kissed him.

Hanzo clicked immediately. Or didn’t. McCree didn’t care. All he knew was that Hanzo stiffened for a millisecond, then melted against his lips. Everything hit McCree at once. Hanzo’s firm, thick chest against his, cool from the night air, Hanzo’s aggressive hand in his hair, that hot, soft mouth with a tongue that pushed into his mouth like a man who knew what he wanted, and he wanted McCree. If Widow shot them both in the head right now McCree would wave goodbye to life a happy man, even more so as Hanzo leaped up and wrapped his legs around McCree’s hips. 

McCree somehow had one off-topic thought, and took the initiative to slam him up against the wall near the staircase. Maybe he was a bad dad, but he’d rather the kids get traumatized by sex instead of murder. 

And then, as Hanzo hit the wall, he gasped out a moan like he was bein’ fucked silly. A flash of heat shocked straight down McCree, and he thumped Hanzo's head against the wall, he kissed him so hard. He could never have imagined that indecent sound coming out of Hanzo’s throat, and before McCree could stop himself, he shoved his hips tight against Hanzo’s and just rutted on the heat and hardness there. Hanzo didn’t recoil, in fact threw himself into it, grappled McCree harder, and their kiss got so vigorous that McCree heard Hanzo’s jaw click. 

Hanzo’s nails dragged down his shoulders as McCree sucked his tongue, both of them more rough and wild than this ever shoulda been, but shit, McCree didn’t care. It had been so long, and Hanzo was so fuckin’ hot and willing to let him take as much as he wanted right now. And fuck did McCree want this, wanted to thrust to completion against him even though he knew he couldn’t. So he just drove against Hanzo so hard the shelf nearby rattled, and he tried not to grunt as pleasure burned hot in his groin with every thrust. Hanzo, on other hand, moaned around his tongue like a goldarn whore. _Damn._ McCree’s cock was slick and tight with need, and he was in some kinda depraved paradise as Hanzo pulled his head back by his hair.

“Fuck – “ McCree panted, dizzy from the sensations, and then gasped as Hanzo bit down on his neck with a sharp growl. A burst of pleasure shattered down his spine, and McCree clawed at Hanzo’s leg to try and stop himself from coming. His metal hand snapped up to scour grooves in the wall with a spray of plaster and paint, but McCree got reintroduced to the fact that he was only human: bliss welled up his cock, and he groaned in a weird blend of shame and utter satisfaction as come spurted all over the inside of his underwear. Right when the lights came on. 

“Oh – oh my gods!” Kimba yelped, and McCree had more than one excuse to drop Hanzo. Hanzo, however, had muscles of his own, and stayed attached like a limpet.  
“Hideki – “ He panted in weak protest as Hanzo caught his lips again, and tried to make a show of decency by trying to pull this gorgeous horny bastard off. But Hanzo could benchpress a motorbike for a reason.

“Ugh, ok, back to bed.” Toshiro did a 180. Kimba had already fled. So the plan had worked, but at what cost?   
“Don’t come back down unless you want to watch us fuck!” Hanzo barked after him, dewy almond eyes lazy with pleasure, and sharp cheeks flushed. Shit, if Hanzo weren’t the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life. Yeah, McCree could chalk jizzing his pants in 0.5 seconds up to that, sure.

“Don’t make me think of that, you gross old man!” Toshiro yelled back.  
“Old? Tell that to my stamina you little - _mmm!_ ” Hanzo got shut up by a kiss, because the last thing McCree wanted was Toshiro heading back downstairs gunnin’ for a fight. And by the red desert, he took everything he wanted to remember from that kiss; the contrast of Hanzo’s soft lips and rough beard, the sensation of how Hanzo’s naked skin moved on his, the hot pleasure of their tongues sliding together…

“You done?” McCree tried for a dry tone as he broke it off, but it came out as more of a ragged pant. That had wrecked him. His body glowed and pinged with satisfied bliss, every need met, but he wanted it again. He wanted it for the rest of his life. Hanzo just glanced at the stairs, cocked an ear, then lowered his feet to the ground. McCree, against all his desires, let him go.

“I will check them for ID.” Hanzo waved at the bodies as if the last minute hadn’t even happened.  
“I’ll – uh – go make sure them kids are holed up.” He swallowed at the bad excuse to go change his underwear, but left before Hanzo could question it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought the Slow Burn was over?? Mwhahaha :)
> 
> Also wet dreams in fics are never as weird as they should be so tadaaa
> 
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you thought! ;)
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or talk to me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
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	37. Hickey Boy Gets Bullied by Gang Thot (More at 10)

Kimba was just about to close her door and pray that her tired brain mistook the ick she’d just seen for some sort of lucid, forgettable nightmare when Toshiro shouldered through her bedroom door as well.  
“’Shiro, what – “  
“Shh, shh!” He hissed, and pulled the door shut. There was the barely-there pad of Marcos’ footsteps up the stairs, and then she squinted up at her brother.  
“Did you see that?” He whispered, and Kimba pulled a face.  
“How could I not?” Did Shiro really want to talk about that? Couldn’t they bury it in repression and exhaustion like normal teens?  
“No, the feet!” Toshiro almost looked wild. His eyes had a weird gleam to them, like when he played too much Diablo.

Kimba shot her brother a crude squint, modelled lovingly off Marcos’. “Oh, I don’t want none of that.”  
“No, the feet by the couch. There were two. Like, two people. Lying by the couch. Not moving.” Toshiro looked at her like she might hold the answers he sought, but he just honestly seemed insane.  
“Sorry, I was too distracted by the – “ She made kissy noises, which Shiro motioned to keep quiet. Marcos could have passed by outside again, she wasn’t sure. For such a big guy, he was really quiet sometimes.

“There were people! Like, knocked out on the floor.” Shiro searched her eyes for answers, but like, Kimba knew for a fact that staring her in the eyes right now was like looking into a blank void of absolute empty nothingness, carried by gratuitous eyebags. All that was in her head currently was ‘ew’ on repeat until she passed out.

“I wanna sleep. Maybe they invited friends over. Ew. I don’t know.” Kimba rubbed her eyes and pushed her brother towards the door.  
“I guess.” Shiro swiped his eyes too and sighed. “G’night.”  
He pulled the door towards him to keep the click of the knob quiet, then slipped out.  
“Night.” She pushed the door closed and yawned. If Shiro wanted to talk about suspicious feet tomorrow, then she was all game. But right now, she needed to hit the hay, as Marcos would say.

***

Hanzo’s head spun. McCree was a grim, reserved man, who barely blinked at the wildest of things. And then… _Where had that come from?!?!_ Hanzo brushed his swollen lips as his whole body throbbed between a primal blend of pain and pleasure. He’d had his fair share of lovers, and he knew good from bad. McCree, in twenty seconds, had ranked beyond even the most dutifully enthusiastic Yakuza gigolos. 

“[So that is what the ‘Wild’ in Wild West is for.]” Hanzo muttered to himself in Japanese, blinked, then looked back at the bodies he’d promised to examine. Work. Mission. Yes. That. Do not think about kissing McCree. Do not think about that insistent cowboy booty in the night.

He squatted beside the agent he’d killed as McCree’s groan before the children had arrived replayed in his head. The uninhibited, sheer lust in that sound would haunt his dreams for certain. It was an inevitable certainty now that they would have to have sex at least once. But by no means would Hanzo beg McCree for his ass, and McCree had only engaged Make-Out Protocol for the mission.

“Hm.” Hanzo grunted with frustration at himself as he tugged off the dead agent’s balaclava. A brown haired male. Nothing special. No tactical gear, a cheap gun… suspicion crawled up Hanzo’s spine like a prickly insect as he dug out the man’s wallet. The fact that he actually had a wallet on him… the fact that these agents had only stayed downstairs and had no backup…the fact that the one near the window had been examining their flatscreen…

“Shit.” Hanzo spat to himself, went over to the window and dragged Stormbow, his quiver, and the cellphone inside it into the house. With deft fingers he speed-dialled Genji.  
“Gengyo.”  
“Eh?” His sleepy brother replied, but quickly to his credit.  
“I need you to help me bury a body.”  
There was a sigh.  
“You know I should be getting used to these calls, but I’m never truly prepared.”  
“Bring Zayarvar, and be discreet. 1A-C is open. ” Hanzo jabbed off the phone, just as McCree padded back downstairs. Hanzo’s dick leapt at the sight. He would have to ice-pack it into submission. For a moment there was an pregnant silence, and then Hanzo remembered his bad news.

“These are burglars.”  
“What?” McCree squinted, then strode towards the pair they had killed.  
“Average, everyday burglars.” Hanzo perched on the couch arm, and appraised the bodies with annoyance. Trust them to have a flawless success only for the perpetrators to be simple, unskilled thieves. McCree pawed through the omnic’s belongings and sighed as he found a list of what looked like house numbers and items.

“Looks like yer right.” He gave a heavy sigh, and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. It was starting to grow out, and fell in a shaggy mess around his neck and face. Hanzo wanted to tangle his fingers in it again. Give that neck more than just a bite. Throw himself into passion again like he had not dared to before. 

Sharp heat flushed down Hanzo’s chest again, and he continued to eye the broad V of McCree’s nail-bitten back with hunger. The dragon had had a taste, and now it wanted more. He didn’t even bother trying to deny that Trash Cowboy was sexy. He’d hit the Acceptance step, Hanzo supposed. Any last hope of saving himself from Dishonour By Cowboy Fucking had been immolated in a Molotov cocktail of passionate wall grinding. 

“Of course I am. I called my cousin to help.” Hanzo rose and strode over to the freezer.  
“Yeah, with this neighbourhood, we’re gonna have to be sneaky. Can’t take our car. Gonna have to disguise and steal one.” McCree retrieved Peacekeeper from the floor and shot him an odd expression as Hanzo picked up some frozen peas.  
“What in the – oh.” McCree stopped as Hanzo wrapped them in a tea towel and slapped them on his crotch.  
“It is annoying me.” He shrugged.  
“Oh. Well…” McCree opened his mouth, and glanced at Hanzo’s solution, then seemed to think better of whatever he’d been about to say. At any other time, when they did not have two bodies on their living room carpet, Hanzo may have pursued that hesitation, but sadly he had to move on. 

“Also, the car from house 27 has always appeared particularly open to opportunity to me.”  
“Ain’t that Linda’s house?”  
“Oh is it? What a coincidence.” Hanzo pretended that was a surprise, and picked a nail. McCree just rumbled with laughter, but if Hanzo looked up and saw that shirtless tanned man flash a smile at him currently, then bodies on the floor may not be enough to stop that cowboy ending up bent over a couch. The appearance of Genji, however, might. Behind him, Zenyatta hovered through the window, draped in a black, hooded cloak as disguise. Dragons above, Hanzo hoped nobody had seen what looked like either the Grim Reaper or a Dementor floating through their neighbourhood. This was a classy area, damn it, and Hanzo wished it to stay this way for his duration.

“Tut tut tut.” Genji clicked his tongue against his teeth, put his hands on his hips, and surveyed the bodies. “Wrong time, wrong place, huh?”  
“We should not delay.” Hanzo left his peas, strode over and started to strip the dead pair. “Two burglars have entered, two will leave. Do you remember the Janitor protocol?”  
He turned to Genji, and tossed him a set of clothes.

“Ah, sweet childhood memories of crime scene clean up.” Genji draped the outfit on his arm, and snatched the ones Hanzo was about to dress with.  
“Oi – “  
“You’ve regressed too much.” Genji wagged a finger, as Hanzo sent him a steely glare. “Naughty regressing _aniki_ . If we ‘just like old times’ this, you’ll be selling crack to the nearest businessman by Monday.”  
“You are being a fool.” Hanzo said, with full knowledge that Genji was entirely right, and he was a shred of willpower and one (1) moral away from taking over the entire city underground and becoming a respectable, villainous billionaire.

“Is he though?” McCree made a little uncertain noise, which earned him a glare too. McCree just raised sassy eyebrows in the manner of a man who knew far too much.  
“I agree.” Zenyatta intoned. “Not with Genji being a fool, mostly, – “  
“Hey!”  
“ - but with your regression.”

“Yeah, I _know_ what was in those cookies.” Genji pointed at him, and Hanzo pursed his lips. “I’m not sure how you even have it and why you _baked_ it! It’s not weed!”  
“It was an accident.”  
“An _accident?_ An accident it ‘oh shit I stubbed my toe’ not ‘whoops I unloaded five grand’s worth of hard drugs I pulled out my ass into cake batter’!”  
“Maybe in your boring life.” Hanzo appraised his brother with a regal eye. Zenyatta floated away in his peripheral vision like he had been caught by a light breeze.  
“Well now you’re just being rude.”

“Should I get some popcorn?” McCree drawled, and sensually popped the button on his jeans like he did every morning. Why he’d done that, Hanzo wasn’t sure. Unless it was to distract him from their argument that was soon to degrade into a petty hand-slap fight, and if so, it had worked.  
“Should I?” Genji gestured as McCree peeled his jeans off.  
“Dragons down, boys. Me n’ Goku here’ll handle it.” He grabbed the larger set of clothes from Genji’s arm, and both Shimadas, who had gone into slight snake-like trances at the hot cowboy, snapped back to reality.

***

“How’s about a kiss fer good luck, husband?” McCree quirked an eyebrow at Hanzo when he had donned all but the balaclava. Not in front of the Genji. So Hanzo leaned in close, close enough to make McCree’s eyes flicker wider in surprise. Then he put a finger on the man’s lips. 

“If I did that, you would use up all your luck from the start.” Hanzo quipped, pushed him back. “Now move it. I want it clean and untraceable. ZEEP tells me there is a scrapper on Carlisle St who will take omnics in parts, no questions. The coastline to the south is rocky and barely visited if you have time for the trip, otherwise the pier is viable. You may have to steal a boat for the first option, but it will be worthwhile to make sure the body does not wash up.”

“Y’know, I hate t’ be an enabler, but yer advice ain’t half bad.” McCree’s lip picked up, and Hanzo tried not to feel like he’d been disembowelled by delight.  
“You are an enabler.” Genji pulled his balaclava down. “Now let’s go steal a car.”  
“Yeah, 27’s looks good.” McCree turned towards the window, and Hanzo almost gave him that kiss.

“Now my dearest Hanzo,” Zenyatta appeared with two mugs of tea when McCree had lugged the beheaded omnic out their window. “shall we have a little talk about you?”  
“Uh,” Hanzo’s eye twitched, and he glanced at Genji, on the sill with a man over his shoulder. Zenyatta put the tea down.  
“Totallynotintentional,havefun byeee!” Genji bounced away into the darkness before Hanzo could swipe him.  
“You little – “

Two warm omnic hands caught Hanzo’s cheeks.  
“Calm as the summer sea. Peaceful as a blossom tree.” Zenyatta’s voice possibly vibrated The Universe into Hanzo’s head.  
“I will kill you.” He struggled a little bit, but Zenyatta was a gentle vice.  
“You will not kill me, you will ohm. Now ohmmm.”  
Hanzo took in a deep, grudging breath, and ohmed with him. If Zenyatta had not turned his brain into a peaceful peach sorbet by the time Genji got back, he was going to waterboard the little shit.

_“So!”_ Genji turned to look at McCree with a dogged expression. He doubted stealin’ Linda’s car had got him so excited, given the range of shit they’d hi-jacked in Blackwatch.  
“La.” McCree deadpanned, and set his phone GPS for the south coast.  
“What happened with Hanzo?”  
“What?” McCree chewed his toothpick, and kept his face neutral even under the balaclava.  
“Asking for a kiss? Usually you’d be all like – “ Genji adopted a bad southern twang, “ - that rattlesnake Hanzo didn’t mind an ol’ bit that we killed civilians, bein’ all stuck up and rich, and I hate him, yeehaw.’”

“Ya sound like Reinhardt.” McCree shifted his focus back to the road.  
“Apparently he practised for 36 hours straight, listening to your oral reports! Isn’t that adorable!” Genji hunched his shoulders and squeezed his fists, so taken by the idea.  
“He did? Which ones? I thought them’s were classified.”  
“Oh no, no changing the subject.” Dangit. Genji leaned in like a cat about to swat, then actually did poke him – right in the neck where Hanzo’d given him that sexy chomp.

“Hey!”  
“Hickey hickey hickey!” Genji gave it a flurry of pokes, as McCree tried to bat his hand away.  
“We had to distract the kids, they came down after the noise of rippin’ that one’s head off.” He jerked a thumb at their omnic friend in the back seat. Technically they could revive it, but that’d just be a hundred more problems.

“What was he like?”  
McCree pulled a face.  
“Whaddaya mean ‘what was he like’?”  
“Well, I had his sloppy seconds by accident a few times – don’t look at me like that, I didn’t know – and they used to say he was pretty clinical. Always _Shimada no aniki_ , always in control even in the bedroom.” Genji shrugged, and McCree gave him the weird eye.  
“Why in the tarnation would you ask after that shit?”  
“Blackmail.” Genji said happily. “Imagine what I could get away with if I knew Hanzo cried after sex or something.”  
“Wow, no wonder he offed yer.” And no wonder he was so guarded.  
“Pfft!” Genji slapped McCree’s arm, but the laugh was genuine, so he hadn’t stepped in it. “So…?”

Well, if Hanzo was a clinical lover, McCree was the Pope. But he couldn’t tell Genji that makin’ out with Hanzo was like makin’ out with man with the tongue of Cupid and the body of a puma that was on fire in a hurricane. It just felt like betrayal of some sorta trust.  
“Yeah, somethin’ similar.” He rubbed the nylon balaclava over his beard, and threw Genji a bone t’ stop the pestering. “All about the mission and that.”  
“Uhhhhh huh.” Genji tilted his head to give him an indescribable but unmistakeable Look with his blank robot face.  
“Spit or swallow, don’t swill.” McCree sighed, and Genji cackled.  
“Did Hanzo teach you that one – “  
_“Genji.”_  
“When he was clawing up your back?”

McCree chewed his inner cheek scar beside his toothpick as his neck flushed hot even thinkin’ of that. Dang, Genji was an observant one.  
“That…weren’t Hanzo.” Whelp, that was officially the worst lie he’d ever told.  
“What, did you get kidnapped by pirates and subjected to the Cat O’ Nine while I was meditating? Did you get mistaken for Jesus again, and get flayed by radicals? Did Moira appear and give you a surprise back massage?” 

“Ugh.” McCree shuddered, but the mental image kicked his brain back into gear. “Nah, it was the other day. When he was…upset.”  
“Ah.” Genji stopped at that. It wasn’t entirely a lie, so it’d do.  
“So help me if ya use that for blackmail – “  
“I won’t, I won’t!” Genji yelped and help up his hands. There was a small silence. “But anyway… tell me about the kids. Toshiro seems like a good kid, even though he’s a bit angsty…”

And so the subject changed, but McCree’s mind couldn’t help but wander back to what Genji had said. That Hanzo was clinical. Either someone was lying, Hanzo had changed enough that night was day, or…what, yer special? McCree rolled his internal eyes as they pulled up by the rocky shore. Hanzo didn’t have to act like an untouchable paradigm of power now. That was it. McCree certainly weren’t The Special Horse Girl who’d tamed The Special Horse. It was nice to think though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know if he loves you so  
> It's in his kiss (that's where it is) ;)
> 
> Hehe, please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! :DD Restaurant shenanigans up next :3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	38. Foreshadowing: The Chapter

After a night of disposing of bodies and a day of trying to coax a language education into rowdy teens, McCree hoped for a nice cosy restaurant where he could kick back with a fifth of Old Overholt and find excuses to lowkey charm his ‘husband’.   
“There! That one!” Genji leaned forward between him ‘n Hanzo in the front seats of the minivan, and pointed at a carpark in front of them. Whelp, that hope had lasted just about as long as spit fer lube in the desert.   
“Well this looks normal,” McCree remarked as he pulled into it. Hanzo raised an eyebrow. 

A gothic building rose above them, with the words THE ORACLE emblazoned across a sign with a crystal ball and a woman who looked like she’d stolen Moira’s nails on it.  
“Come on, come on! They have tableside psychics who do tarot readings and crystal ball stuff– “ Genji flung open the door and bounced out with Zenyatta close behind as Hanzo rolled his eyes.  
“Gengyo is a superstitious one, for obvious reasons.” He sighed, and motioned at his dragon tiddy. McCree took the invitation, and admired the cleavage his pale blue scoop neck showed off. He kinda wondered where the thottiness in the Shimada genes came from; Genji preferred to be naked 24/7, and Hanzo seemed to stage a passive-aggressive mutiny with low-cut shirts or slutty hoodies whenever he couldn’t have his left boob exposed to the world.

“What reasons?” Kimba piped up as she clambered up the minivan aisle. Hanzo opened his mouth then shut it. Looks like he’d forgotten that the kids didn’t know their ‘uncle’ had a massive green Yakuza dragon tat emblazoned on his back that came to life, possessed his sword, and killed people. 

Then again, Hanzo’d been a little out of it since whatever had happened with Zenyatta last night. McCree had come back to find him starfished on their bed, smelling like chamomile tea, muttering in his sleep about how he couldn’t be nice if he wasn’t nice and something about waterboarding Genji – but McCree hoped that was jus’ weird dreamtalk.  
“Uhh – “  
“That he, uh, lived through his…cyborg…ordeal.” McCree stumbled out, and Hanzo made an affirmative noise.  
“What happen with that?” Toshiro frowned as he followed Kimba out the sliding door.  
“That is his story to tell.” Hanzo regained his regal airs and exited the minivan too.

***

The place was Gabe’s dream, McCree had to admit. The heavy velvet drapes. The light-up crystal balls that lit the tables. The general air of drama. He’d have to mail the brochure to Talon.

Ana and Reinhardt had beat them to the mark, so they converged on their table that they apparently had to share with their allocated psychic.  
“Well, it ain’t as bad as the last place.” McCree held a chair out for Hanzo like the true cowboy gentleman Reinhardt wanted him to be, and Hanzo took it.  
“The ninth circle of hell isn’t as bad as the last place.” He sniffed and peered around. His eye caught on the special room for vape-smoke divinations and his expression soured even more.  
“Oh, say hello to your fellow demons when you go back there.” Toshiro jibed back, but before they could get into it, McCree shot a meaningful look at them both, then gestured to his ‘parents’.  
“Hmph.” Hanzo turned his nose up, but behaved. Wow. McCree at the start of this venture would never have believed the progress they’d made. 

After they’d picked a meal off a menu shaped like a Shang Dynasty oracle bone, a mysterious shape swept out of the gloom to their table.  
“Hello cosmic companions.” A young lady with rich dark hair and magenta lipstick swept her hands in greeting and took the spare seat. “My name is Astra Gemini, and I will be your psychic for this evening.  
“Ooh, I knew an Astra Gemini once.” Genji leaned forward, propped his chin on his hands, and his voice took on a flirty little cadence. “Not in your line of work though.”  
“Tch, I bet.” Hanzo muttered beside McCree. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed by Astra Gemini and his brother’s flirting.

“There is no such thing as a coincidence. It seems I was meant to read for you all.” She cooed, and turned to Reinhardt. “Your energy is quite tremendous. Let me start with you.”  
“Ooh tremendous energy!” Reinhardt clapped his hands with the excitement of a kid with birthday cake.  
“He’s quite tremendous in other ways too.” Ana smirked, and McCree buried his face in his hands. _No._  
“Ha! Karma!” Kimba pointed at him, and he supposed she weren’t wrong.

“Now let’s see…” Astra Gemini pulled out some cards. “Ooh, you have a wonderful romance. Prosperous and full of life. It will definitely bring you happiness in all your years to come!”  
“Hm.” Hanzo made a quiet, dismissive noise as Reinhardt squeezed Ana’s hand.   
“She is just telling them what they want to hear. Worthless.” He muttered, almost to himself and brushed a non-existent speck off his shoulder. McCree raised his eyebrows as Ana’s cards were dealt.  
“I’m guessing y’ain’t into fortune tellers?”  
“They are a breed of scammers.” Hanzo pursed his lips as Astra Gemini told Ana practically the same thing but rephrased. “They suck in the delusional and profit off them. As a business: admirable. As a legitimate source of advice: deplorable.”  
“Well, you make sure t’ tell it how it is.” McCree put a toothpick in his mouth to chew. Hanzo sure spoke his mind when he had a hard-set opinion, but sometimes fun was fun.

With a serene smile, Astra Gemini swished to Genji and Zenyatta on her right.  
“And who might you be, my omnic brother?”  
“I am Zayarvar. A Shambali monk.” Zenyatta supplied happily, and Astra Gemini’s eyes widened a little bit. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and McCree wondered where the Shambali Order ranked on psychic prowess. Havin’ heard that Zen’d reached the astral plane recently, McCree’s chips would be on Pretty High.

Astra Gemini breathed out her nerves and shot him a warm smile.  
“Ah, I have a great respect for your order, especially those that follow the Path of Foresight.”   
“Oh, I am no such acolyte.” Zenyatta laughed.  
“Oh.” Astra Gemini’s shoulders settled with relief. Looked like Hanzo’s scepticism might be right.  
“I am a Master of the Path of Transcendence.”  
“Oh God. I – I mean…” She shot a quick look around all of them. “Oh good. The Universe will certainly be open to you for your devotion to such a – a noble art.”  
“Many thanks.” Zenyatta didn’t seem to be pickin’ up on the hoax goin’ on here, or the psychic shitting herself. “Your open mind has inspired me. May I bless you?”  
“I – sure.” Astra Gemini swallowed again, and all of a sudden McCree saw this poor college student tryin’ to earn a buck wage by peddlin’ crap, face to face with a monk who, by all myth and legend, had probably seen The Beyond and would know bullshit from fact. Poor kid.

Zenyatta gave a content hum and laid his fingertips from both hands just above her eyebrows. There was a moment of calm, and then… _something_ ; something that drove half of him back in resentment and pulled half of him forward in awe. Hanzo stiffened beside him, as if he felt it too.  
“May the Iris be with you.” Zenyatta spoke in a Voice, one that resonated with things from another place. 

“Tha – ah!” Astra Gemini gasped, and her eyes flashed bright gold. McCree heard Toshiro exclaim at the sight, but barely registered it over the sudden wash of absolute hatred that crashed through him. His vision snap-locked on to Zenyatta. His eye blazed straight past itchin’ to a burn, the red comin’ on stronger than it had in longer than he cared to think about. As McCree fought it, something slid down his cheek and his metal hand squeezed ruts into the table. Everyone’s attention was on Astra Gemini thanking the monk. Even if they saw, they wouldn’t know how t’ help. _He_ didn’t know how they could help. Panic rose like bile in McCree’s throat as it pushed harder. If he couldn’t stamp it down… if it won…

Somethin’ whispered. He could almost feel Peacekeeper in his hand. If he felt it whole an’ heavy, he’d lost. McCree was so focused that he didn’t see Hanzo move beside him. Something that felt like the sky caught his cheek, and then the red snapped off in shock as Hanzo kissed him smack on the lips.

“Oh my gods, why?” Kimba’s appalled voice was clear, as was Ana’s amused chuckle, and Genji’s whistle.mp4. No whispers. McCree breathed out through his nose against Hanzo’s cheek and focussed on the sparks that flew up his cheeks from where their lips met. He caught Hanzo’s shoulder with his flesh hand, and the solid heat of the other man steadied him. Toshiro threw a balled-up napkin at them, and Hanzo broke the kiss off to catch it.

“Thank you.” He unballed it, and McCree flinched as Hanzo wiped a hard line down his cheek. “You spend ten minutes in a restaurant and you already have food on your face. ”  
He pouted them pretty lips in a moue of disappointment, and handed McCree the napkin. A blotch of blood blossomed where Hanzo had cleaned. Cryin’ blood, huh? What, was he goin’ through puberty again?

“Dirty. Go to the bathroom and clean up.” Hanzo batted his arm, but in reality, behind that regal glare, he was giving McCree an out if he wanted it. This time, the haughtiness was an act. Bein’ alone right now wouldn’t be the best though.  
“Quit yer whinin’.” McCree grizzled, and scrubbed the napkin up his cheek, over his beard, then over his eye for good measure. What in the tarnation had that been? He’d never reacted t’ anything like that before, let alone Zen. Then again, he’d never seen Zen call on the Iris like that. Somethin’ here didn’t mix well.

“Ok, I’m in. Read my cards and _please_ tell me those two die in a freak kimono accident or something.” Toshiro dragged his chair past Ana to beside Astra Gemini, who still looked a bit dazed from being zapped by the Beyond. Then, like the trooper she was, she blinked and got her head in the game.  
“Of course. Let me and the cards feel your energy.”

As Astra Gemini began to shuffle, McCree glanced at Hanzo, whose eyes were fixed on the cards but his focus was elsewhere. He may have just saved Zenyatta’s life, and saved McCree from killin’ a friend with that kiss. He hoped Hanzo hadn’t interpreted his cranky tone as offense at bein’ smooched, but he couldn’t really say anything out of character. Not all things had to be said though. So McCree reached under the table, caught Hanzo’s hand and gave it a squeeze. 

Hanzo glanced up, and his face softened a little. His thumb rubbed the back of McCree’s hand.   
“You will be ok?” Those sharp eyebrows dipped in concern. Yeah, when a colleague is crying blood with a glowing red eye, mild concern was a valid emotion, even for the Dragon of Hanamura.   
“Maybe. Might need another one t’ make sure.” He deadpanned. Near-murders aside, McCree had made a promise to himself to flirt, and flirt he would. His heart thundered as Hanzo’s teeth flashed in a small laugh.

“Tch. Ingrate.” Hanzo let go of his hand and batted his shoulder, but when Hanzo turned back to Toshiro’s reading, his expression was nothin’ but smug. McCree’s lip pulled up. That’d do nicely. Well, where his eye was concerned, anything that wasn’t a call for the lynch mob was a win, to be honest. But this was a win with a dragon, and those were a thing of legend.

“So you…” Astra Gemini laid out a pattern of cards, and scanned them for a moment. “ Upright King of Wands and the Upright Page of Cups, Upright Sun, Upright Seven of Swords… I’m sensing masculine, I’m sensing father-son energy…”  
McCree caught Hanzo’s eye roll. Whelp, Toshiro had asked about his ‘dads’ so he supposed it was Astra Gemini’s job to tell him what he wanted to hear.  
“The King of Cups suggests your father is charismatic and bold. The Page of Cups suggests you are perhaps inexperienced in matters of the heart and should be open to him for…” She moved to the Sun card. “Success and betterment of yourself. Or perhaps you already are, and should continue on this path.”

Toshiro scoffed and pulled a face, but maybe the presence of two sweet old grandparents prevented him from flipping them both off. Astra Gemini moved on to the next card, and frowned.  
“However The Seven of Swords suggests deceit. Perhaps one of you in this relationship is keeping something from the other, and you would both benefit from clearing the air.”  
“Aw, _otōsan_ , let me clear the air.” Toshiro smiled sweetly at Hanzo, which was more than unsettlin’. “You’re a bastard.”  
“My parents were married. At least do your research before your pathetic attempts at insult.” Hanzo preened, and had apparently forgotten about trying to seem sane in from of Ana and Reinhardt, whose eyebrows shot up.

But somethin’ ticked at McCree’s mind as Hanzo and Toshiro continued their friendly bitch exchange. There _was_ deceit goin’ on. This whole relationship was a lie. Their entire personas were a civilian visage for the kids. Nah. It was just coincidence. That’s what these kinda things did – made ya think about something and link it with coincidence. Hanzo was right, of course. McCree tuned back in as Kimba’s cards were dealt.

“So it looks like for you, a big change is either coming or has come. But the Wheel of Fortune Reversed suggests something out of your control will make you feel unlucky – but this…a happy surprise seems to be on its way. So ups and downs!”  
“Ooh, sounds fun!” Kimba beamed, but was pretty much overridden by Genji.  
“Me me me! Goku by the way!”   
Aw, McCree couldn’t help but think this enthusiasm was adorable. The cyborg dashed to her other side and eagerly presented himself to have his energy read. Astra Gemini’s smile turned a different kinda friendly and then she drew Genji’s first card: a man hanging from a rope. Genji gasped. Whelp. Rest in peace tarot weeb. 

“So, Goku. The Hanged Man, Two of Swords, Two of Cups, and the Six of Cups, all Upright…” She touched their order again, and Genji put his hands over where his mouth was, obviously anticipating good or bad.  
“You may have to choose between two things in the near future. One of them you will let go, but this will lead to healing and a closer partnership of some kind. So be bold in your decisions!” Astra Gemini finished, and Genji struck a power-ranger pose that almost flipped a nearby waiter’s dish off their arm.  
“Confident! Yes ma’am! _Sugoi!_ ” He cheered, and happily clapped his hands then ducked behind Zenyatta and urged the monk forward.  
“Are you, uh, sure…” She swallowed, but Zen seemed to have endowed her with _something_ and wanted to test it.  
“Of course! I am not afraid to see the future. It will hold something wonderful, I am sure.”  
Astra Gemini immediately flipped over Death in reversal. There was an ‘oooh’ at the table. 

“Th-that’s not necessarily bad,” Astra Gemini sweated, and flipped the next few cards. “See, Strength, The Hermit, and the Two of Cups. Wow.”  
She examined the cards under the scrutiny of Zenyatta’s blank, peaceful robot face.  
“These are _very_ powerful cards. But no surprise really…” Astra Gemini chewed her lip for a moment. “Change is coming for someone close to you, and you will be resistant to it. Your actions will create uncertainty for yourself or someone else. But inner focus and contemplation will help resolve the issue.”

“Zayarvar? Not open to change?” Genji propped his chin up on his hand and looked at his boyfriend.  
“Everyone has their foils, my dear.” Ana reached across and patted his fingers. McCree, a little taken in by the not-so-pandering readings, wondered what in the heck could make Zen resistant to ‘the flow’.  
“I thank you for my reading. It is always a blessing to remind oneself to keep an open mind.” Zenyatta hummed happily. How he was just so… positive? All the time? McCree had, unfortunately, missed the monk almost smite Moira into a dented pile of ball-pitted flesh after she’d nearly sucked Genji to death.

“Now who is next?” Astra Gemini looked around.  
“Hideki! The ol’ egg and spoon to my boy!” Reinhardt clapped Hanzo on the shoulder and made a little, slightly electrocuted noise.  
“Yes! Hideki, Hideki, Hideki!” Genji began a chant and pounded on the table. Kimba and Reinhardt joined in. Even if Hanzo had looked to him for help, McCree was still trying to recover into his hand from Reinhardt’s use of ‘egg and spoon’.

“Tch.” Hanzo rose, and took the seat Genji vacated.  
“I do not have time for cards.” Hanzo’s tone was a regal command, and he held out his palm instead.  
“O-ok, let me see.” Astra Gemini sucked in a breath with an understandably nervous glance at Hanzo. She picked up his hand and turned it a little. McCree snapped a sneaky picture on his phone. Hanzo looked like some lord peering down his nose at a peasant wise woman brought in on his whim, and he couldn’t just let that pic op pass.

“Ooh.” Astra Gemini pulled an apologetic face as she examined. “Oof.”  
She caught a glimpse of Hanzo’s glare, and ducked her head.  
“Sorry. Um…these hands. They are very…interesting. Um…” She looked like a doctor about t’ tell someone they have cancer. “The aura…there’s something profane about them, something done that shaped your life. See, there, a betrayal…”  
She pointed at the upper part of Hanzo’s left hand. He just pursed his lips. McCree had to say either Zen had really given her some mystic Sight, or her act at the start had been a hustle.

“Ah, but you want to know things you don’t know!” She gave a nervous laugh and picked up his other hand. There was a pause while her eyes flicked over the lines.  
“There’s a hitch here. Somebody will rely greatly on you before…well…let’s just say your actions will determine both your path and their path before, well…” She drew her finger to where even McCree recognized the end of the Lifeline was. “But that’s a, uh, way away! Most people have lots of big decisions! You just have one. So no worries.”   
Hanzo side-eyed her and her general air of stress.

“Usually these things are, you know, making a big investment like buying a house, taking a chance on romance, things like that, especially with the depth at the end of your short – but respectable! – heart line…” She trailed off with a jumpy little laugh, then seemed to notice with relief that their waiter was nearby with food. “Ah, I had better – “  
“Oh, but what about my Marcos?” Ana interjected with wicked warmth. If she wanted some dirt on him from a palm-reader, she was really stretchin’.

Astra Gemini stood, and her smile dropped as she and McCree locked eyes. Something hard and cold shadowed across her face, and McCree narrowed his eyes back. Under the table, a restless trigger finger tapped on his knee, but it was the only reaction he couldn’t help.  
“I will not service _you_.” She spat, turned on her heel, and vanished into the gloom in a flutter of tarot cards, like Gabe exiting a pool party except with less fire. Somethin’ evil tugged at him to follow her and drag her somewhere alone and dark, but he shoved it away. One of her leftover a-flutterin’ cards drifted down between Genji and Zenyatta, with a number scrawled across the back of it in silver pen.

“Wow, rude.” Kimba stuck her neck out to peer after the psychic as Zenyatta serenely tucked the card into his baggy pants. McCree squinted. He could never goldarn read that monk.  
“She hasn’t met you before has she?” Genji laughed as Hanzo returned to the chair beside McCree.  
“Oh come now! Ma boy is the paradigm of a gentlemen! Classic cowboy charm.” Reinhardt beamed, and clapped in even more delight as his two plates of food were set down.  
“I ain’t much inta cards that don’t have suits anyway. The future wouldn’t be excitin’ if it weren’t a surprise.” He shrugged, and thanked the waitress as she handed him his meal. After the events of the evening, McCree eyed it without much interest. His eye actin’ up and the evil in him toward their psychic had him thrown.

“What, are you waiting me to feed you like last time?” Hanzo eyed his plate, then him with an almost jaunty look. McCree couldn’t help an amused huff at that.  
“Well, it’s more like eatin’s not the same without a back massage beforehand.” McCree smirked back, and earned a chuckle.   
“You would be so lucky.” Hanzo purred, and McCree just shook his head with a grin. He tapped the waiter to order a bottle o’ bourbon to impede his treacherous eye if it acted up again, and looked around their weird lil family with an odd feeling of contentment. Maybe he could still salvage the night a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could these reading possibly mean ;))) Guesses welcome! :D
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought, I always love hearin from y'all :3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	39. The Return of His Majesty Hanzo

In Hanzo’s opinion, the dinner continued amicably for being in a house of frauds and having started with one of their party crying blood. Reinhardt had challenged him to a drinking competition, which Ana had instantly banned due to the presence of children (but they would most certainly raincheck later). However, they had already bought bottles each, so Hanzo had happily worked his way through around half a litre of sake by the time the conversation veered off McCree regurgitating their cover story to his ‘parents’.

“[Oi, _aniki!_ Why’d you kiss Marcos? You _liiiike_ him?]” Genji, also a little tipsy, called across the table at him in Japanese. Neither Shimada noticed how Toshiro’s attention snapped to them at that.  
“[Like? Perhaps.]” Hanzo waved his hand like he was dismissing a grovelling Yakuza bottom-feeder from his presence as Drunk Regal Hanzo began to swagger in. “[He serves me well. And I _am_ meant to be married to the peasant.]”  
“[So it’s all just for the _marriage_ eh?]” Genji slurred back in loud Japanese. Ugh. Genji always got so loud and sloppy. Uncouth baby man.  
“[I do as I please. Do not question me tiny infant.]”  
“[Does it please you to kiss cowboys, your fucking Highness? I think it does. I think you _like_ like him.]” Genji began an annoying little sing-song.“[ _Aniki_ likes cowboys, _aniki_ likes – “  
“[Do not take me for lover of the general peasantry, mutt of the gutter. It was necessary.]” Hanzo barked, and absolutely did not notice how McCree, Ana and Reinhardt were all nervously eyeing the volatile brothers arguing loudly in Japanese. Zenyatta, some might say, was an oasis of unchanging calm, but those who knew he understood Japanese might say he was having a hard time not cracking up.

“ _Tennō Heika_ may we have conversations in English?” McCree’s low, and _sincere_ , Hanzo might add, voice murmured in his ear, and Hanzo shot him an appreciative glance. His dragons purred. It was nice being addressed suitably.  
“Since you asked properly, I suppose.” Hanzo smirked, and tapped McCree’s chin with a finger.  
“Thank you.” McCree tilted his hat, and the Dragon _basked_. He liked well-mannered peasants. Certainly well-mannered cowboys who were all warm and handsome and _scandalously_ rough. When McCree lifted his gaze, he shot him the most appreciative look just to let him know he had done well. 

“Gengyo! English. Do not be rude.” He barked when he deigned to stop eye-fucking McCree, and Genji gave a very sarcastic bow.  
“Sorry, honourable elders for making you awkward!” He gave a broad sweeping gesture with a hand, and nearly knocked over their crystal ball.  
“Oh, you’re fine and dandy, little anklebiter!” Reinhardt beamed, a little rosier around the cheeks as well. “We sometimes slip into Spanish sometimes, don’t we McSon? _Hola pendejo! Ce’st la vie!_ ”  
Ana spluttered into hysterics at that, and Kimba giggled too.  
“ _Si papi_.” McCree replied, mouth twitching around a smile he was forcing down. When Ana stopped wheezing back into laughter, a pleasant quiet fell over the table. Until Toshiro turned to Genji and annihilated it. 

“Hey Goku…how’d you become, like, a Kamen Rider?” He gestured to Hanzo’s shiny metallic sin.  
Ugh. This son was going to be denounced if he wasn’t careful.  
“I like that!” Genji pointed at him. But instead of giving a usual Overwatch-base answer (including “You see, it was this new weight loss workout plan: lose 50 kilos in twenty seconds with your sword-wielding instructor Hanzo Shimada”) he went with something a bit more pedestrian.  
“It was a car crash. Nothing that dramatic, I’m afraid.” Genji shrugged. “I was sort of sprinkled across the highway like pepperoni on pizza.”

“Hm.” Hanzo made a noise of agreement, and nodded. Royal justice had been served that day. Disrespect the Dragon and get anatomically exploded, that was his motto. He did not miss McCree’s slightly appalled squint at him, but he should know that bitches get stitches. And Genji was nothing back then if not A Little Bitch. So Hanzo had turned him into Little Bitch Soup, the only reasonable resolution to that problem. Hanzo got a small notification from his conscience that he was going to feel terrible about these thoughts tomorrow, but haughtily dismissed it.

“And how about you?” Kimba asked McCree and eyed his arm.  
“Mmm, do regale us.” Hanzo waved a generous hand, and absently tossed a fifty at the waiter collecting their plates. The waiter panicked, missed the bill, then bent to grub it off the floor. Oh, Hanzo liked that. Maybe he should toss some more money and see who scrambled. Luckily His Highness was distracted by McCree’s dulcet tones.  
“Well, I was up in Florida with yon Goku, and there was this big ol’ gator…”  
And so McCree wove another thread in their tapestry of deceit, and the night carried on.

***  
Half a bottle of whiskey may have been a bit much to drink before driving, but no blood no foul; they’d made it home without being highway pepperoni, so McCree counted it as a win. As soon as they made it through the door Toshiro bolted off to his room to probably brood like Gabe in an aesthetic thunderstorm, but Kimba lingered on behind.

“Hey Marcos, I forgot to ask you before, but there’s a party on Saturday with my friends. I can go, right?” Kimba made her eyes all big and dewy, and held her lil cowboy hat against her chest with both hands. Darn. She had the coercion powers of a full-fledged agent in the making there.  
“A party? You had better not be getting in with uncouth youth.” Hanzo sniffed and fixed her with a very regal, very tipsy eye. Then again, McCree was on the warm side o’ the alcohol too. He could feel the second coming of Blackwatch McCree the Bootyshorts Boy on the horizon.

“Uncouth youth. Very good.” McCree gave him flirty ol’ smirk of approval at that, and Hanzo made a small pleased noise. How in all tarnation did Hanzo manage to make his speech _more_ complex when he’d been drinkin’? Why was it so hot? _Kiss the smart lips!_ His brain demanded, and McCree had to quickly check Hanzo and the Kimba’s faces to make sure he hadn’t demanded that out loud.

“Aw, come on, it’s Yazhu, Helga, and some other class people…what’s the worst that could happen?” Kimba joked, but oh, mission hazards aside, McCree had a thing or two to say about parties.  
“Humiliation, embarrassment, fire, explosions, collisions, tears, public nudity, and death.” McCree listed. “And that was just one game o’ piñata from my 15th birthday.”  
Kimba just giggled so hard she snorted. It was heartwarmin’ to see he’d made her laugh so much, but he had also been dead serious.  
“Your jokes are the best.” She giggled some more, and Hanzo leaned over. McCree’s hoe drunk brain made an attempt to look slutty by trying to incline back a little on the couch head, but his hand missed, he slipped, but caught himself on the front door alcove wall in what he thought was quite a seductive pose and popped his hand on his hip like Amelie had used to do every time she entered a room. Nailed it. 

Kimba gave a hard _ppfffft_ of laughter, but Hanzo followed his path of drunk flirtation undeterred. Possibly encouraged. McCree honestly didn’t know how the man had resisted him and his chaps for so long.  
“You will tell me about that party later.” Hanzo commanded, and for some reason pulled on his leather gloves. Several sexy interrogation scenarios ran through McCree’s head, so hoping for one, he gave Hanzo the nod, still posed like a street hoe against the wall. He was committed now. 

“But seriously, can I go? I gotta tell them tomorrow!” Kimba ignored all their shenanigans (probably for the best). Well, McCree couldn’t say no to a face like that. And besides, with six agents in the field, it shouldn’t be too hard to monitor. They could disguise Reinhardt as a tree.  
“Fine, but I’ll pick ya up at 10pm, and I better have the address beforehand.”  
Kimba gave a happy squeal and bounced off to bed, and McCree slid a toothpick in his mouth while maintaining direct eye contact with Hanzo. Hanzo stared back for a full three seconds.

“Come!” Hanzo suddenly reached forward and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “I tire of this.”  
“Yes yer Highness!” McCree grinned, breathless and slutty, as Hanzo dragged him upstairs. Maybe it was because he was three whiskeys shy of a blackout, but Hanzo orderin’ him around had never been hotter.  
“Allow me.” McCree opened their bedroom door for him, and tipped his hat.  
“Mm. I like you, Jesus McGee.” Hanzo grabbed him right by the belt buckle, and pulled him inside. Whoo boy. If he kept his fingers there fer much longer, he was really gonna find out how much McCree liked that.  
“So – “ McCree, a little too eager to flirt, outpaced Hanzo, crashed into him, almost fell over, but caught himself on the steel girdle that was Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo, in a snap reaction, French dipped him. Their faces were inches away. He could smell Hanzo’s lychee lip balm. Totally intentional. As they paused there, McCree spat out his toothpick with a soft _ptoo._

“Get on the bed.” Hanzo threw McCree back so hard that he sprawled on the covers. His moral compass tried to stage a half-hearted _you’re both drunk!_ protest, when Hanzo dragged his hair out of a bun and tore his own shirt off. Eagles above, his eyes were dark an’ blown, his bara tiddies flicked as he loomed over the bed, and McCree was actually struck speechless. T’ heck with it. Hanzo wanted him? Hanzo could have him. They honestly needed to sleep with each other, get it done and out the way, and maybe reckless drunk sex was the solution. Hanzo placed his strong hands on the duvet, and prowled up McCree’s body like a lion on the hunt. McCree could barely breathe he was so turned on, and his heart thumped against his ribs. Hanzo was all wild elements, and it called to his primal side, his wicked darkness, and the Bootyshorts Boy within. Fuck, McCree was throbbin’ to be ridden silly, and he splayed his legs to let Hanzo kneel between them.

“You know what I want.” It wasn’t a question. It was a command, and McCree, weak and tipsy, just lay back to be ravished.  
“Yeah darlin’, take what ya like.” McCree panted, offered his throat and slid his flesh arm up over Hanzo’s back.  
“Good.” Hanzo dipped down, but instead of goin’ for the kiss, he settled his head on McCree’s chest, then lowered the rest of his body.  
“Mmm. Nice. Warm rock.” Either His Majesty had degraded McCree so much in his head that he’d become an inanimate object or he could _definitely_ feel McCree’s boner. Then Hanzo closed his eyes with a content smile and McCree was left another kind of speechless as this unscrupulous bastard fell asleep. 

“Uh, Hideki.” He shook the dead weight on top of him, painfully hard and frustrated.  
“Hanzo.” He hissed, but Hanzo just made a happy lil noise and relaxed further. What the shit. McCree dropped his head back on to the pillow with a dejected whine, and stared at the ceiling as if it could help him while Hanzo crushed his ribcage. The other man wasn’t even aroused. Did that mean that this cold, cruel businessman had bribed an obviously frisky McCree with the promise of sex just so he could snuggle?

“Great. Just…fine.” McCree sighed in defeat, and absently stroked Hanzo’s hair. He was so, so tempted to just get himself off on Hanzo’s hip, but that felt way too weird. Well, cuddlin’ weren’t too bad, he supposed. Hanzo was a nice kinda warm, and a nice kinda heavy. McCree looked down at Hanzo’s face happily smooshed against his pec, and a blossom of endearment ached up his chest.  
“Yer a weird one.” McCree slurred a little, and played with a lock of silky black hair. “But I like yer. Powers help me, I like yer. There’s no two ways about it.”  
So he closed his eyes, tried for sleep, and hoped that Hanzo didn’t try to ignore him for eternity tomorrow for the shame of cuddling or whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Hanzo says he tires of this, it means he is literally tired and wants to use you as an electric blanket. RIP McCree. Also the list of party hazards came from the TV comedy Miranda, which I recommend you all watch! I think it's on Youtube :3
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! ^.^ I died of secondhand embarrassment even reading my own writing, big F
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	40. CSI: Your Dad

It was Bullshit o’ clock on Day Fuck It of this forsaken mission, and here McCree was, stuck in some hot-ass classroom handing out a stack of dictionaries to the front row nerds of Kimba’s class to pass on. His temples ached, a leftover from last night that not even his go-to hangover cured had dealt with. Not only that, but Hanzo, the 200+ lb musclebound archer, had happily slept on top of him _all_ night. McCree swore he had a permanent rectangle stamped into his lower belly from his belt, which he’d been too squished to attempt to remove. His ribs ached, possibly bent out of shape. Not to mention, he was a ball of carnal frustration again. 

And His Royal Hanzo hadn’t even had the politeness to wake up properly when McCree’s alarm had gone off. He’d just grunted in annoyance when McCree slithered out from under him and faceplanted the floor to escape, and crawled under the covers to nestle in their warm spot like a sad lizard. Worse than that, the previous night kept replaying in a film roll of shame in McCree’s head. The falling over and posing against a wall. The French dip. The ‘take what ya like’. Ugh, he’d sounded so desperate. Well, maybe he was. But he’d be damned if he was that easy. Hanzo would never let him live this down. Were things gonna get awkward between them now because of drunk Mr ‘Bury Him in a Y-Shaped Coffin and a Cowboy Hat’? Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have to face Hanzo quite yet. Whelp, out of that mortifying distraction and back to reality. 

McCree sighed, and pulled up a projection on the holo-table. He let the students have a brief yet baffling glimpse at his home screen, that featured files labelled ‘Desert Cult Year Plan’, ‘Useful Poisons’, ‘Photos of Mothman’, and ‘Top Ten Trucker Calendars’ before finding the class notes.  
“Now on yer tablets, ya got three worksheets.” He gestured at Worksheet 1, that was full of a set of useful words in both English and Spanish. “Worksheet 1, you gotta use them there dictionaries to find the Spanish word for the English word, and visa versa. Worksheet – “

The classroom door opened with an authoritative snap, and McCree stopped in confusion and panic as whomst but Hanzo swanned in. Dressed to the nines in a suit probably worth more than this room, with his douchebag hangover shades, perfect hair and leather gloves, he looked like an emperor in a mud hut.  
“Oh, these are your students are they?” Hanzo scoured the room with a slight air of distaste, and McCree wondered if this handsome asshole was still drunk.  
“Hm.” Hanzo huffed, and to the 9th Graders’ credit, they hadn’t yelled an obscenity at him yet. Then again, he looked like he owned the city, and had a general aura of ‘do not fuck with me’. 

“Uuuh, what’re you doin’ here?” McCree chewed his toothpick and scowled as Hanzo’s appearance sent the stereo-viewer paper reel of mortifying images from last night clicking across his mind again.  
“Oh, I was bored, and Kimba my dear you forgot this.” Hanzo picked his way to the second row and held out what McCree recognized as her lunchbox. McCree squinted. Didn’t he have minions to do errands for him? Either Hanzo was being real adorable for doing this himself, or he just wanted another audience to admire him.  
“Oh my gods, I am so embarrassed.” Kimba covered her face with one hand, and took the lunch with the other.  
“Embarrassed of me?” Hanzo almost sounded amused. “I raise the aesthetic value of this room by at least double. You should be grateful that your class now know you have such a sophisticated father.”  
Gee thanks, McCre thought as he rolled his eyes.

“I’m _very_ grateful! Hi, Kimba’s best friend here.” Yazhu leaned forward and extended an eager hand. McCree dragged fingers over one sore temple as Hanzo smirked and took it. Attention whore. He found comfort in the fact that Kimba looked like she wanted to crawl away and die as well.  
“You must be Yazhu. I’ve heard about you.”  
“Ooh - !”  
“Dearest, I’m teaching here.” McCree drawled, before Hanzo could make himself too comfortable and possibly recruit 14 year olds into his start-up Yakuza family. 

“Ah, yes husband, and how are you?” Hanzo thankfully left Yazhu and weaved back through the few desks to the front.  
“Sore, no thanks to you.” He grumbled, and only as a ripple of shocked giggles went through the class did he realize what that sounded like. Helga covered her mouth. “No, not like that, come on.”  
Hanzo, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the implication.

“We need to talk alone. Come.” He waved McCree towards the access door to McCree’s office. A bunch of nerves knotted in McCree’s stomach. Had something come up with Talon? Did Hanzo want to tell him he was a hoe drunk and not to step over workplace boundaries again? But he was in the middle of a class. Unless this was an emergency….  
“I can’t just – “  
“Ah ah.” Hanzo snapped his fingers twice and McCree gaped in outrage. “You children have work. You will do it, yes? Good. Now come.”

Hanzo snapped his fingers again and McCree was torn. Risk missing mission-relevant info that Hanzo might have come in an emergency to provide, or look like an obedient dog? Dangnamit. He pursed his lips and followed. One of the troublemakers at the back made an ~oooo~ noise, and McCree whipped around like they were duellin’ under the sun.  
“This’ll take a minute. One peep outta y’all and I’ll be handin’ out detentions.” He pointed at them with a scowl that could make hardened gangsters find religion, and swept after Hanzo.

“I. Will. Rip yer. Fingers. Off.” McCree snapped his own fingers between each word when the door closed.  
“My mistake. I thought you did not mind being directed.” A cocky little smirk played on those gorgeous lips, and McCree had the odd impulse just to kiss him and see what Hanzo did. Instead, he let a very done silence hang for a moment, then changed the subject.

“You better have a damn good reason fer that show. And who’s watching Toshiro?” He growled, and crossed his arms. In the tight space, he practically had Hanzo pinned up against the window. Hanzo leaned back, hands spread wide on the windowsill, not bothered by proximity at all. Then again, nothing could really top the proximity of last night, so proximal in fact that he’d had an imprint of Hanzo’s goatee on his tit.  
“He is in Gengyo’s class. We must discuss last night. I believe we should talk to Zayarvar.”

McCree stopped in confusion. What? Why? The thought _marriage???_ flew a very unexpected flight path through his head before McCree could stop it. Well now that was dangerous.  
“Ain’t that…kinda personal?” He tried, and kept his face neutral to hide his bewilderment. Did Hanzo want, like, counselling? Were they at that stage o’ the relationship already?  
“I think what happened was to do with him, was it not?” If Hanzo thought McCree was gunnin’ for _Zenyatta_ and making Hanzo the stand in, he’d definitely said some shit last night that he didn’t remember.  
“Your eye.” Hanzo’s eyebrows dipped into his shades at McCree’s baffled silence. Oh. _Ooooooh._

“I think so.” He grumbled, and blinked, a little self-conscious.  
“And you should let him know. I do not want a repeat of last night, and I am sure you do not wish for that either. We must minimize risk.” Hanzo pressed, and McCree nodded, but with suspicion.  
“So you came all the way here to tell me somethin’ ya coulda texted.”  
“As I said. I was bored, and Kimba forgot her lunch.” Hanzo shrugged, and McCree narrowed his eyes. He knew Hanzo well enough that the man always had another motive for doing everything.  
“You sure it ain’t about…y’know…y’ain’t actin’ weird because of last night?” He threw it out there with his heart thumping a million miles an hour.  
“Oh no, I think we had an equal exchange of disastrous conduct, so fair is fair.” Hanzo waved his hand, tone flippant. “And if you truly are in pain, I can give you a massage. We need to be at peak performance.”

Hanzo said that in such a businesslike tone that McCree didn’t register what he’d offered before his fake husband breezed past back towards the door. Even the _thought_ made him indecent for school.  
“Uhh, ok – “  
Hanzo opened the door into a class of rowdy teens that almost drowned out McCree’s reply. Hanzo took off his shades, and eyed them all. By the time he reached the exit to the classroom McCree might’ve been standing in a graveyard. Either Hanzo had bloodshot eyes so shocking they inspired silence, or the Yakuza boss thing was makin’ these kids go quiet on a natural self-preservation instinct. Maybe Hanzo should stick around. For crowd control purposes.

“Uh, _adiós._ ” McCree all of a sudden felt all flushed and awkward, but Hanzo just raised a hand in farewell, snapped his shades back on, and left. Then McCree remembered he was grumpy about the man making a scene in front of his students in the first place. Wow, did Hanzo have him all turned about or what?  
“Alright, now before I was so rudely interrupted…” He jingled back over to his holo-table, and got back to the grind.

  


That little venture had gone rather well, Hanzo thought as he headed back towards the cafe. Now that he had hit the acceptance stage of wanting to cave-dive the cowboy, McCree was an unwitting prey in a pitiless game of seduction. It had taken Hanzo the morning to connive options, but McCree’s reaction from that unspeakable dinner told him that massage had the highest odds of turning the cowboy into a drooling, Hanzo-craving mess.

“Boss, you just missed that Real Estate Agent again.” Marie caught Hanzo before he could head back to his office to resume surveillance and seduction strategies.  
“Hm. She did not leave a card?” That was off for a real estate agent. They usually rained business cards down upon anyone that got in their path. Marie shook her head.  
“She wanted to meet you in person. Seemed to think she was too good for the rest of us.”

That sounded like a bad real estate agent. The Shimada real estate representatives had rivalled hosts for their sociability, and it had turned over great profit. So Hanzo simply shrugged. He was not a charity for bad businesses.  
“Oh well. I am not interested in more property currently. You may tell her that, and to leave a card if she wishes to contact me in any way.” Hanzo held out a hand, and Bini happily bestowed him with the cup of tea Hanzo had seen the omnic pour out as soon as he had entered the café. Such good help these days. Much better than the Overwatch base.  
“Thank you both.” He flicked a fifty each on the table for them from his usual stack to show he was in a good mood, and headed back to his office.

***

Kimba couldn’t believe Hideki had shown up in class to give her lunch like she was a toddler or something, _gods_. And the worst bit? None of her friends would _shut up_ about him. At least they all wanted to go to his café on the regular (for ‘sitings’, ugh), which, down the line, probably meant Kimba wouldn’t be short on shopping sprees for a while. But was it really worth the emotional toll?

“Yo, we need to talk.” Shiro sidled out of possibly a bush, and glanced around like a weirdo who liked giving people miniature heart attacks.  
“Ok.” Kimba recovered and shrugged, but he just glared at Yazhu (who was doodling something probably graphic and nasty of Hideki).  
“Alone.” He hissed.  
“Ooh, like father like son.” Yazhu wiggled their eyebrows, and Shiro could not have looked more offended and disgusted.  
“There’s an explanation for that – “  
“But I don’t want to hear it.” Shiro curled his lip and dragged her towards an empty wooden bench stained with bird poop. She gave her friends a grudging wave and let herself be abducted by her weirdo brother. He’d never been the same since they’d walked in on Marcos and Hideki banging against the living room wall, but then again, neither had she.

“We have to get away from Marcos and Hideki.” Shiro said in a harsh whisper as soon as she sat down.  
“What?” Kimba knew he’d always been at odds with the pair, but this actually sounded serious. “Why, did Hideki try to teach you how to gold-dig or something? Did he crash your class and make you want to die too?”  
“Hideki’s a Yakuza!” Shiro spat out, but Kimba had no idea what that meant.  
“Is that a Japanese prostitute?”  
“Yes - No! It’s, like, what they – we –call Japanese gangs. He’s from a gang, and he’s gonna abduct and ransom us or worse!” Shiro really did look as insane as he sounded, but he was her brother, so she had better help.  
“Whoa, wind it back. How do you know any of this?”  
“My Japanese teacher said Yakuza call their superiors _aniki_. Goku called Hideki _aniki_ the other day. It can mean brother, but they’re cousins so…” He waved a hand, as though it was obvious.  
“Well Rodrigo calls me ‘homie’ but we’re not, like _in the hood_ y’know.” Kimba had a hard time even picturing ‘sunshine’ Goku amongst the big tattooed men and women her brain conjured up beside the word ‘gangsters’.

“Hideki’s got a tattoo as well! The one on his arm? I looked it up. Only Yakuza have that style of tattoo and it’s practically illegal in Japan. Seriously!” He implored. Toshiro hadn’t shown this much non-spiteful emotion since her birthday, so he was super serious about this.

“Just because a Japanese guy has a tattoo doesn’t mean he’s a gangster! Besides, if they were gonna kidnap us or whatever, wouldn’t they have done it by now?” Kimba shrugged. “I mean, what are we gonna do? Snark them to death? Hideki even taught us self-defence…”  
“They’re probably waiting for their gang to ok it! And besides, that’s how bad people work – make them trust you, then you go along with them.” Toshiro scowled, and Kimba supposed that did happen in a lot of movies, so it was probably legit. But Marcos? And _Goku?_

“If Hideki’s a gangster, that means Marcos, Goku, Gran, Gramps and a _Shambali Monk_ are involved.” Kimba could see how some of Toshiro’s points made sense, but that was just going into the ridiculous.

“Gangs are family things! And maybe he isn’t a monk! If Hideki isn’t who he says he is – “ Toshiro gave a little gasp and looked like he’d cracked the Da Vinci Code. “The fortune chick said my dad was hiding something from me! This is it! He’s a Yakuza!”  
“Now you’re taking advice from some weirdo card lady?” Kimba dragged her hands across her face.  
“You don’t believe me.” Toshiro’s jaw ticked, and he crossed his arms with a glare. “I mean, even their injuries and stuff. Marcos’ arm. Gran and grampa are both missing an eye, and I mean Goku’s cool but – “

“Just because someone’s disabled doesn’t mean they’re in a heinous limb-removing gang!” Kimba slapped Toshiro’s shoulder. “Besides, Marcos said a gator got his arm when he was saving Goku’s drunk friend! And Goku got – “ She blew a raspberry and did a kind of splat motion with her hands, “ – in a car crash. Besides, where’s Hideki’s gang-related injury if he’s a big mean criminal?”  
“He was probably a whore, Kimba! They probably kept him pretty!” Toshiro blurted out, and Kimba made a frustrated noise to the gods in the sky at his sheer insistence.  
“You just hate them! Legit, what do you have against Hideki?”

“Evidence! There were those the bodies!” Toshiro hissed. “The two people on the floor the other night?”  
“Given the situation, does it seem weird that there were two people on top of each other on the floor?” She shot back then gagged. “Can we not talk about _that?”_  
“They weren’t moving! And the Mr Anagnos thing – he’s apparently shit for years, then he just happens to pick on you and boom – gone, replaced by Hideki’s family, and pressganged to work for Hideki!”  
“So you’re upset about our dads stopping a teacher picking on me now?” _That_ wouldn’t fly by her. So they were smarter and better than other parents? They hadn’t done anything illegal, in fact from what she’d heard, Anag-bitch had.

“It’s the method! Like, too… _smooth_. Please Kimba, we have to get away from these guys. They’re bad news.” His lips went sourpuss, and he narrowed his eyes.  
“Shiro you gotta know how crazy this sounds.” She sighed. “Marcos is a teacher at the school – they do background checks you know. And Hideki’s weird, but he ain’t a gangster. And I bet even you don’t think Goku is involved.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Shiro’s face, but then he clenched his jaw. “Look, we can get away tomorrow when you go to that party. I’ll sneak out the house and meet you. Then we can call mom and dad, and hide in a motel or something. I still have some money.”  
“I...can’t.” The thought of leaving the one household she’d finally just started to call home tugged at her gut, and her lip trembled a bit. “This is stupid, Shiro, can’t you see? It’s just all stupid shit, and you’re creating some sort of bad situation because you hate Hideki!”  
There was a moment of stony silence.  
“Fine. I’ll go by myself.” Toshiro pulled a bitchy pout and got up. “But don’t worry, I won’t ditch you like you’re ditching me. I’ll come back. I’ll make sure you’re safe from them.”

As he marched away, Kimba sniffled and tried to blink away tears. She was not going to be that baby who cried at school. He wouldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t. He’d see that his theory was super insane. Yeah. She wiped her eyes, and straightened the cowboy hat Marcos had bought her. Back to Helga and the party planning. Dumbass brothers would be dumbass brothers. He’d cool off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh bit of an angsty end there D: Toshiro be knowin'....But at least the McHanzo is goin well :3 
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! And thank you for all your wonderful comments so far! I've been getting really awesome ones lately so thank you so much :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	41. You've been Bingo'd

“Cooie, what a day.”  
Hanzo did a double-take as McCree leaned against the corner of the door alcove and dragged his surviving hand over his face. The man had left after dinner to visit Zenyatta’s temple, but not in those clothes. A baggy t-shirt with the faded words CHUG THUG and sweatpants hung off his cut frame. Infuriating.

“What?” McCree squinted at Hanzo’s glare, then looked down at himself. “Now – “  
“You had sweatpants. And you have been sleeping in jeans?!” Hanzo hissed and rose from the couch like a tiger with its tail lashing.  
“Don’t get yer knickers in a twist. Assumin’ yer wearin’ knickers.” McCree deadpanned and raised an eyebrow at Hanzo’s silk robe. Hanzo let silence plead the fifth, and the cowboy continued. “Goku gave these t’ me. The temple made me antsy so we went for a jog.”  
“Those. Are Gengyo’s?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow back at the clothes that Genji could probably use as a small tepee.  
“Yeah, his ‘Floridian uncle’ gave him some ridiculously sized shit.” McCree shrugged. Well that explained ‘Chug Thug’. “Is the interrogation over? May I proceed to the shower yer lordship?”  
“Pfft.” Hanzo snickered, but waved him along. “You may.”

McCree’s lip quirked up as he headed towards the stairs, and it sent a little flutter of thrills through Hanzo’s chest. He did not know how he did it, but somehow he made McCree smile, and it was a superb feeling. The thrills turned into something else, however, when McCree lifted up the hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. The bulky shirt slipped off his skin, and made McCree’s cut waist seem even more slender and muscular. His loose sweatpants had ridden low so that the swell of both buttocks peeked over the edge of the fabric then smoothed into his Venus dimples. Well shit. Hanzo glanced away, eyes wide, and blew out a breath that puffed his cheeks out when McCree had vanished upstairs. Between this and McCree’s ‘interesting’ dream the other night, that cowboy ass seemed to sense he was an uber top and was out to aggressively seduce him at every opportunity. Wow. 

Hanzo was still staring blankly at the black TV with steamy anime images of that ass floating in an out of his imagination when McCree padded back downstairs in the same clothes. In the window reflection, which Hanzo had forgotten to draw the curtains on, the larger man winced and rubbed his neck. Well, the Dragon of Hanamura was not known for letting opportunities go to waste.  
“Come.” Hanzo barked, picked up a throw pillow, put it across his lap, and patted it.  
“Oh no. I sat in yer lap before, and I ain’t doin’ so again until ya apologize fer callin’ me a cheap sugarbaby.” McCree pointed, and Hanzo made an amused noise at the memory. Definitely worth the slap.

“This is not for sitting. Head here, lie down, massage, we watch Crime Time.” Hanzo gave the pillow another firm tap.  
“Oh.” McCree’s expression cleared, then he frowned again. “Do I just…”  
“Shirt off, lie down.” Hanzo tugged open the coffee table draw to retrieve the apricot kernel oil he used when McCree was out and he was feeling particularly indulgent.  
“Did you get that just fer, uh…”  
“No, in the mornings I like to get naked, drizzle myself in oil and lie in piles of money.” Hanzo deadpanned the exaggeration, but honestly, he should do that sometime. McCree choked, but from laughter or shock, Hanzo could not tell. But so long as he was imagining Hanzo sexy and naked, job well done.

“Yer jokin’. Or you better be.” McCree muttered as he lowered himself on to the couch, and laid his head on the pillow in Hanzo’s lap.  
“I will neither confirm or deny until you tell me where you get your belt buckles from.” Hanzo picked up the remote before his hands got oily, and flicked to an old episode that McCree hadn’t seen, but he had. He did not plan on paying much attention anyway.  
“Pfft, then I guess we take our mysteries to the grave.” McCree’s teeth flashed on the side of his face that Hanzo could see.  
“Strange man.” Hanzo said mildly, then stroked a hand over the plane of McCree’s broad shoulders.  
“Says the guy who apparently rolls naked and oily in dirty ol’ mo – ney.” McCree’s voice hitched as Hanzo pushed his thumb into the place that had made the cowboy squeak last time. The squeak button.

“You can wash bills.” Hanzo absently dragged his fingers down McCree’s spine, and all his muscles flickered. It was lucky Hanzo had put this pillow on his lap, because the view to that ass, which deserved to be clad in bootyshorts labelled ‘Juicy’, was quite wonderful. Perhaps this was the reason for his nickname ‘Blackwatch McCree the Bootyshorts Boy’.  
“I actually knew that. In a washin’ machine.” McCree mumbled.  
“Ah, the ‘accounting business’.” Hanzo’s lip pulled up as he worked the knots out of McCree’s neck.  
“Mm, held up a laundromat once t’ get some bills less red.”  
Hanzo raised an eyebrow at that. Firstly, the cheapness. Secondly, the confession. Well, if he ever wanted to interrogate McCree, this was the correct method. Massage the info out.

“Huh, and you call me cutthroat.” He continued to work his fingers into the muscle over McCree’s shoulder blades as their show babbled in the background.  
“Hm, we’re both a little dangerous at times. You just more’n need’s be.” McCree huffed a little laugh.  
“Oh I think I am quite reasonable.” Hanzo replied in his most innocent voice, which only managed to achieve 50% innocence.  
“Tch, course ya do.” McCree’s amused voice was level, but the shiver of his shoulders told Hanzo he was not quite so inwardly nonchalant. He liked pushing McCree to uncharacteristic extremes. He was almost tempted to drag his nails across the cowboy’s scalp, but that would very obviously be beyond the parameters of a ‘medicinal’ massage.

“How were lessons with Toshiro? He seemed pretty moody today.” McCree seemed to be trying very hard to keep his voice squeak-free. They would get there Hanzo thought, and sighed.  
“Our relationship is strange. At first I thought we may get along in our own way, but today especially it seems that he truly just does hate me.” 

The boy had barely back-chatted him – a worrisome sign. He had simply glowered and replied when necessary, then escaped as soon as possible. Only Kimba had joined Hanzo for self-defence, despite Toshiro insisting so avidly for it previously.  
“Well, no offense, ya can be a bit of a bastard.”  
“You know, saying no offense does not make whatever follows not offensive.” Hanzo said mildly. McCree was right, and he really did not have a problem with it; confidence intimidated lesser people. “Besides, you have a hefty sum of bastard energy, but Kimba likes you well enough.”  
McCree snorted at that. “I dunno. She’s a less troublesome kid to start out with.”

“He… reminds me of Gengyo also.” Hanzo said after a small pause. He had not dared to voice that before, but with his hands on McCree’s skin, and not having to look in his eyes, Hanzo felt in control of the dynamics of the conversation. “His expressions even. When he did that Dragon Ball shout, like Gengyo used to do, and grinned at me, childishly excited like Gengyo used to be – well, still is – about those things…”  
Hanzo rubbed down one of McCree’s deltoids and distracted himself from thoughts of a proud and naïve ten-year-old Genji with the story on McCree’s back. White flecks of scars, one that even looked like archaic stitch-marks, a splay of moles, the dips and swells of trained muscle…  
“Is that why ya had that dream, d’you think?”  
“Perhaps.”

The conversation drifted off as McCree tuned into Crime Time, and Hanzo continued to work his back. By the end of the episode, McCree was quivering at his touch, and Hanzo’s mood had picked up again. Even more so, when he rubbed around lumbar three in McCree’s lower back. Ah. There was the squeak.

“My apologies, was that painful?” Hanzo said in the most smug voice known to man.  
“Yer mean.” McCree somehow glared at him whilst faceplanted in a pillow, so Hanzo just pushed the squeak button again. His ass arched just a little, and the Dragon hungered.  
“Well now yer just takin’ the mickey.” McCree grumbled and eased himself up. Hanzo supposed he deserved that. “Though thanks. I think you shaped the muscles you crushed back to normal.”  
“Now who’s dramatic.” Hanzo smirked as he screwed the oil cap back on and tried not to look at the reason why McCree probably did not wear sweatpants much.  
“Although ya did mainly crush my front.” 

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, then dropped an amused gaze to look at McCree’s pecs. It was a huge mental strain not to look lower.  
“You want me to massage here too?” He leaned in and pressed the tips of his fingers into the meat of McCree’s upper right pec. The short breath the other man huffed in was an unmistakable yes. Hanzo lifted his gaze. McCree’s eyes were lazy on him, and his mouth was so close that Hanzo could see the shine of saliva in his beard where pleasure had made McCree drool a little. Plan executed to perfection. But could he push it all the way? The thought of their wild kiss the other night burned in him.

“Uh – “ McCree suddenly turned towards the open curtain so fast that it made Hanzo jump. “I think we should shut that.”  
His tone, and sudden unease made Hanzo’s brain snap into alert as well. Curse having responsibilities that interrupted wooing.  
“Do you see anything?” Hanzo shifted into a more upright position as Yeehaw McNightvision prowled over to the window.  
“No, just…” McCree sighed and peered out into the pitch night. Some of the tension Hanzo had worked from his shoulders crept back in. “We should minimize lines of sight.”

He drew the curtain with an almost too-firm flick, and his mouth worked as if he was chewing the inside of his cheek. Then McCree saw Hanzo looking at his lips, and Hanzo saw McCree looking at him looking at his lips, and glanced away. Oh well. Another day, perhaps.  
“You did not sleep well last night. Rest. I will keep watch for the first two shifts.”  
McCree shot the window another glance, then nodded almost with relief. “Thanks. Yer a gem.”  
A swell of delight shot through Hanzo’s chest at that.  
“Oh, what kind?”  
A grin suddenly split McCree’s face, and Hanzo felt more covetous of that than the most splendid opal.  
“Well that’s a trap if I ever heard one. G’night.”  
“Sleep well.” Hanzo watched the oiled-up, sexy, smiling, bronzed cowboy and his Venus dimples saddle swagger up the stairs and pouted slightly. When this mission was over, when they didn’t have shifts or needed to be on 24hr alert, he was going to pound that man up against a wall.

In the amber shadow of a street-lamp, an unassuming olive green SUV sat.  
A deep, gravelly voice within mimicked McCree’s southern drawl:  
“Bingo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 100k words things are finally coming together folks! Not McCree and Hanzo though. They’re trapped in Plot Jail now. :) The next few chapters will be about our favourite villains. Also shoutout to that one Gym Thot a while ago who I swear was physically flirting with me by wiping his face with his shirt, flashing me half his amazin ass each time :|
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of the chapter! Love hearin what you think \^.^/
> 
> Also @ele_with_knife (tiny elephant) on twitter did **[this amazing art of Kimba!!](https://twitter.com/ele_with_knife/status/1256119744450580481)** Go check it out, it's really wonderful!! :D
> 
> My [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	42. DISGUISES

Reaper couldn’t believe that blending into suburbia in a family SUV would be one of Talon’s best strategies. Once they knew which city, a brief hack of the most likely schools’ info had found them one Toshiro and Kimba. Throw in a cowboy teacher, sauté it with address info kept on file for them, and bada bing boom, a targets located casserole.  
“The two we didn’t expect, hmm?” Moira leaned over from the driver’s seat to watch the Man, the Mistake, the Mess, the McCree, reach over and draw the curtain all without a shirt.  
“Bingo.” Reaper drawled happily. But if that kid was getting down with Druglord in there, Reaper was going to slap him before anything else. McCree could do better than some sleazy Shimada! Hadn’t he listened to any of Reaper’s lessons?

“Do we go in?” Moira almost looked hungry. Maybe she was. The theory that she fattened up and baked stray children in her laboratory kitchenette was still unresolved either way.  
“That’s a negativa, _tía_.” Sombra interjected from one of the kiddy seats, eyes fixed on her laptop. “That’s a fortress. They got laser trips, cameras, alarm sensors, thermal, the works. It looks like one of them’s on watch in case of teleports, and if Widow snipes the guard the other one will take the kids to ground before we can get to the front door.”  
“So – “ Reaper stopped short. McCree had snapped the curtain shut, and his vague shape disappeared into the interior. But there was still the shadow of a cowboy at the curtain. All of a sudden, the night seemed very silent and cold.

“Was McCree wearing his hat?” Moira’s whisper gave Reaper chills.  
“No…” Sombra’s voice wavered, just a hint. None of them could look away. The shadow lingered. Something crimson glowed on one side, and Reaper was about to slam all present in the van to the floor when it turned. And looked up at where Amelie was positioned on the roof-top opposite the house. Then Reaper blinked, and it was gone.  
“Tell me that was McCree.” Sombra swallowed, and the two former Blackwatch agents in the van glanced at each other.  
“There was a reason he was in Blackwatch. He fit my aesthetic so well.” Reaper gave a nostalgic sigh. 

As soon as he’d seen the skinny rascal with a deadly eye that glowed crimson and cried blood on occasion, he knew he _had to have him _. But he’d never seen that thing before. Then again, he hadn’t been on the opposite side to McCree until now. Despite whatever amorphous mass of shadowy goop Reaper was now, some part of him was human, and some part of him was scared. Not that he had to show it.  
“But never mind that. Fistman’s gonna be so happy with this. C’mon, we set up surveillance, and get civilian clothes for the two of you. If even one of those targets are out on their own, we’ll strike.”  
“Okey dokey boss.” Sombra settled back, seemingly happy to move on from their demon cowboy experience, and began to pull out some microcameras.__

__***_ _

__Mariko wiggled a little in her chair excitement as she sat in front of her laptop. She’d put everything together. The Boss was going to be so proud! She’d be back in Japan in a click, become a manager of a district maybe, or even a Lieutenant…the next step was a subsidiary family of her own… dreams of grandeur made her sigh. In fact the future seemed so bright that she almost missed The Boss’s call._ _

__“Good morning Matsumoto _no aniki!”_ She bowed so low she almost bumped her head on the desk.  
“I take it you have good news.” The Boss replied in a cool tone with an undercurrent of threat. The Boss didn’t like to be bothered personally for trivial matters, but Mariko was no fool. She had everything the Boss wanted and more._ _

__“I have found our culprit.” She tried not to grin like a hapless teenager with a crush, and brought up her data. “A new café and arcade in town, the Jasmine Vine and GameMania, popped up a few days after our fronts were destroyed. These are owned by the same man – Hideki Sierra-Kubo.”  
She pulled up photographs of both the joints, but to her shame, had no pictures of the man himself. He barely ever seemed to be at his properties, and she couldn’t linger around the café because, well, it was on the opposite side of the road to the school. One sure-fire way to look suspicious was to hang outside a school with dark shades and a camera, and she didn’t want her car getting picked up by the café surveillance as loitering suspiciously. Even a tourist façade could only go so far._ _

__“How can you know it was him?” The Boss frowned. “There is no information on a Hideki Sierra-Kubo in our system.”  
“The business timing aside…” She pulled up an image of a car she had seen in the café lot – the exact same make as her own. This man may be trying to be a sneaky son-of-a-bitch, but his Yakuza roots were showing plain as day. She wondered if he had fixed the flirty GPS problem.  
“I thought this car looked suspicious, and tracked its origin. Apparently, it was bought on the same night our fronts went down, and is registered under his name. Not only that, but I tried to hack into his camera security system.”_ _

__She showed the Boss the screenshot she had taken of the network code.  
“Very high tech.” The Boss nodded. “No simple café owner would go to such lengths.”  
“And it’s alert-trapped. If I had tried to hack past that point, he would have been alerted to my efforts.” Mariko swallowed at how close she had been to screwing this whole thing up. Not only that, but it would have set this man, who had burned two fronts and killed half of their staff, on her tail. She may look calm and collected now, but the second she had seen the type of security coding, she had slammed the power button on her laptop so fast that her fake nail had chipped, and not dared to turn it back on again until she was miles away from the network range. Luckily the coding had still been up for the screenshot._ _

__“Then you did well.” The Boss nodded. “Do you have a picture of this Hideki Sierra-Kubo?”  
“Humblest apologies _Aniki_ , but he seems to be managing his businesses from a secondary location.” She ducked her head, but brought up the next best thing – a picture of that kid, which she had managed to snap through the window after she had left. “I do believe that this is his son, however.”_ _

__The little brat certainly had the attitude of a sleazy Yakuza merc’s son. Shooing her away, huh? He would regret that.  
“The café staff practically treated him like royalty, and after I approached him, he said some things about Sierra-Kubo-san that alluded to personal connection – that his father, does not have a good side.” She continued as The Boss nodded. “I placed a tracker on Sierra-Kubo-san’s car, and have his home address. I also have his cell number from his car registration documents. Please advise me on how to proceed.”_ _

__It had permanently removed a good portion of her pride to get that tracker on Sierra-Kubo-san’s car, that was for sure. His security cameras covered _everything_ , so she had had to belly-crawl (in an _expensive_ cotton suit of all things!) under eight cars during the café rush, prayed nobody reversed over her or noticed a strange real-estate agent spread-eagled under a Subaru, and fired a tracking device on to the car underbelly. Then she’d had to drag herself out of there again. Thank goodness the carpark planner had maximized the space, and made the parks small enough that there weren’t awkward huge gaps she had to slither between. The things she did for the family, huh?_ _

__“I want him alive.” The Boss mused, and tapped an absent finger. “He is very skilled and knows our workings, and must be interrogated. Watch his address, and take him back to the empty goods warehouse as soon as the opportunity opens up. Alert me when you have done this.”  
“Yes _Aniki!_ ” Mariko bowed low. “I will begin surveillance tonight!”_ _

__When the call ended, Mariko punched the air with her fist.  
“Yesss, Hideki Sierra-Kubo. I will use your head as a step to my ambitions!” She gave a feral grin, cackled slightly, then took some breaths to seem sane again. Whoo. Ok, time to throw the Boss’s permissions in Yamazaki-san’s face and get to some good old fashioned stalking. Sierra-Kubo-san would rue the day he messed with the Matsumoto Clan!_ _

__***_ _

__They had been at surveillance all day, but this time Reaper was not murderous by the end of Trial By Screen Migraine. Sombra, on field duty at the school, had very luckily identified Ana as an operative in the field; Target 1, Kimba, had apparently got a party planned for this evening with her friends, but even though she left with them after school, she was never alone. A shadow of a grandma had followed her to the address and met with McCree in a large blue van that was so ridiculous in size that it could only mean one thing: Reinhardt. Target 2, Toshiro, was holed up with Hanzo – a seemingly easy pick until Zenyatta and a horrifically dressed Genji had turned up. Reaper swore he had thrown out those awful khakis from Morrison’s wardrobe, but apparently their glorious Strike Commander went bin-diving for his beloved garbage._ _

__“All right team, we have a choice.” Reaper steepled his claws and peered around the interior of the SUV. Sombra shimmered into existence from a teleport, and Amelie looked as though she wanted to smash this middle class car with a stale, rock-hard baguette. Akande was present on a laptop screen, as he was organizing their getaway helicopter. They had put him on top of a few boxes of Sombra’s equipment so that he didn’t he didn’t have to constantly look up Moira’s nose. Sombra had doodled a gingerbread man body for him on a post-it note, and stuck it on the laptop bottom._ _

__“Target 1: Ana, Reinhardt, and McCree are keeping surveillance, with little to no defensive measures on the property. Target 2: Hanzo, Genji and Zenyatta – a weaker group, but with a high-security location.”  
“Hmm.” Moira narrowed her eyes at Zenyatta through the window. “I like the sound of Target 1.”  
“Aww.” Amelie pouted, also looking at Zenyatta. “But I wanted to complete ze set.”  
“I can hack Genji and Zenyatta and put them out of action. But their set-up will pick me up before I get close.” Sombra sighed. “So maybe 1? I can take out Reinhardt’s armour.”_ _

__“I agree.” Akande nodded on the laptop. “Target 1 is easier, and besides Amelie, you can get a hat-trick on Ana.”  
“Hm, I suppose.” Amelie shrugged, and picked a nail.  
“But we can’t go in like this.” Reaper growled.  
“Oh no.” Moira facepalmed.  
“Don’t you say it – “ Sombra waved a finger.  
“We need... DISGUISES!” Reaper finished with a vicious laugh. The rest of Talon groaned, except Akande, who shrugged.  
“We’ve done well so far. Go for it, little man.”  
And this was why Reaper liked his job._ _

__***_ _

__“Argh! I look like a capitalist!” Moira screamed. In an attempt to make Clown-Shoes look like an entirely different woman, they had decked her out with a long blonde wig, a white pencil skirt and blazer, and white leather chunk heels, all with gold accessories. They’d even sadly trimmed her claws.  
“It is a bit…unnatural.” Reaper had to admit, although he was proud of the complete transformation.  
“Well, there is just no pleasing some people.” Amelie, a child of massive inheritance and luxury with no reason to disrespect capitalism, huffed, and snapped her eyeshadow palette closed.  
“At least you don’t look like a fifteen year old delinquent when you can literally turn invisible!” Sombra gritted, and waddled in. She was decked out in a huge hoodie, loose brand sneakers and a wig of unruly black hair. Reaper had lovingly stuck a scraggly soul patch on her chin with spirit gum. “Why don’t either of you get disguises?”_ _

__She scowled at them, which really completed her disguise, and Reaper crossed his arms.  
“Because Amelie’s blue – hard to explain – and I don’t fully exist on the material plane. Although, I _have_ always wanted to dress like a mafia pimp – “  
“No, I think we’re good.” Sombra sighed, and lifted up her sleeve, which was several inches too long for her hands. They had to have that though, because her nails had hacking tech in them, and they didn’t fit the overall squalor of her teenage boy character._ _

__“So the cover: Sombra, you are Moira’s rebellious teenage son. Moira, you are one of those rich people that go to the Fyre festival and talk about moist cakes. Let’s call you Chanelle.”  
“Ugh! I want to die! I hope d’ feckin’ cowboy throws his hat at me so hard the brim takes my head off.” Moira picked at her blonde plait in disgust, and got exponentially more Irish with her rage.  
“Hush now.” Reaper continued. “Sombra, you will be Carlos. I think your general sulkiness at being in that outfit is perfect for him.”_ _

__Sombra just glared even more at that, and in doing so improved her character.  
“We want you to find every excuse to be loitering around the neighbourhood.” Reaper continued. “Amelie will be positioned to provide cover in case of interference, and I will be in the van to teleport in if necessary. Moira or myself, with teleport abilities, will abduct the target to our van, then we’ll bring them to Akande at the abandoned theme park where we hid the escape helicopter.”  
“Wow, I can’t believe we have a decent plan for once.” Moira raised an eyebrow, and earned an expressionless, done Reaper mask face turned in her direction.  
“Come on gang. We’ve done team-building exercises. We’ve organized ourselves. We even have money. We can do this. I believe in us.” Reaper put his hands on his hips, and Amelie nodded.  
“Ouie. Go Team Kidnap Children.”  
“Yes! Team Kidnap Children!” Moira cackled, a strange juxtaposition to her straight-looking mom disguise, and Reaper sighed.  
“The name needs work, but if it makes everyone happy, why not. Let’s split.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira become Karen 8I
> 
> Things are for sure on the move now! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please leave a comment to tell me what you thought!! :D
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	43. We Are Number One

This was the worst feckin’ mission Moira had ever been on. And she’d waltzed down the middle of the road in Venice while a hundred omnics’d tried to off her. Not only had the Purple Queen made her take a bathin’, but she had t’ walk in these chunk heels lookin’ like a swanning prick while Sombra was being the most annoying she could possibly be.

“Come on now Carlos,” Moira patted her leg like her ‘son’ was a manky old mutt with a hearing problem. She was trying for an New York accent, because it was basically a mutated Irish accent, right? “we don’t got all day.”  
“Don’t wanna.” Sombra grunted, eyes fixed on her phone as she leaned against the pristine picket fence of the Target’s location. “All we got at home is sports cars and canapés. You know canapes aren’t dinner food, right?”  
“Ey, there’s no reason t’ get caught up. You’re eating, right?” Moira crossed her arms and tried to pretend her accent adventure wasn’t goin’ t’ hell in a handbasket.  
“Yeah, and so are prisoners.” Sombra rolled her eyes.

“That’s good. Eyes on the target?” Reyes growled in her ear, and Moira scowled.  
“Well if we could move up _just a little bit…”_ Moira gritted and beckoned heavily with her declawed hands.  
“Or what?” Sombra, who also had Reyes in her feckin’ ear, shrugged. She was fierce mad about that disguise now, weren’t she?  
“I’ll take away your phone, that’s what!” Moira snatched at the device. Sombra ducked, but in her evasion got them to the spot where all 6’5 (+ heels) of Moira could peer in through the window. The sun was setting, but they hadn’t pulled the curtain yet, so Moira got a glimpse of the kiddies watchin’ a movie. Some feckin’ cowboy thing. Oh by the good lord. The Target had a cowboy hat on. Had McCree _infected_ her?

“Just you wait till you see this.” She muttered back to Reyes without the howl of laughter she felt inside, because she was meant to be a tired mam with a squally teen.  
“You ready to teleport in?” Reyes called just as disaster struck.  
“Howdy.” Oh lord and baby jesus. McCree’d left his truck. Well they didn’t exactly look inconspicuous. “You look like yer kiddo got you beat.”

Moira turned with the brightest, most wholesome smile she could manage. He squinted. Probably looked like an alligator at the dentist’s.  
“Bonjour.” Moira panicked and replied in French. “Are you from zees neighbourhood?”  
She tried not to cringe. Why had she gone French??  
“If I ever get the opportunity, I will kill you.” Amelie said cooly in her ear. Fair.  
“Well I’m from the area. You?” McCree’s unreadable gaze had sweat prick on her neck. Did he know? Was he staring into her heavily mascara’d eyes, listening to her bad French accent panic, _knowing_ and just letting this farce continue?  
“Oui…?” She tried as Reyes breathed heavily in her ear. “Just a leetle father up. I ‘ave just come back from an ‘oliday in, uh, Paris. Unmatched for croissants.”  
Over the tirade of angry French in her ear, Moira heard McCree make a little polite noise. Perhaps she was pulling this off? Perhaps this was too ridiculous for McCree to suspect?

“An’ thissun? He yours?” McCree put his hands on his hips, and after only knowing Blackwatch McCree the Bootyshorts Boy, the lad lookin so fatherly was feckin’ weird.  
“Uh, well, not biologique.” Moira swore she was straight up making up words now. She could sense Amelie’s sniper rifle pointed directly at her eye. “I adopted this leetle ethnic child for some variety, oui?”  
McCree looked rightly disturbed at that, but it fitted ‘Chanelle’ so what the shite, she may as well.  
“ _Ethnic child for variety??_ ” Sombra spat and Reaper cackled.  
“I knew that was all a publicity stunt!” Sombra continued. “I hate you! I’m running away!”

And with that Sombra did run – well vaulted the fence to their Target’s neighbour’s house and feckin pegged it.  
“Ai! Ma petite child!” Moira did her best impression of Amelie talking to any and all spiders that got stuck in the bathtub, and bustled after her as fast as heels would let her go without an ankle snapping right off.  
“Ye’ve got a trouble on yer hands with that one. Allow me.” McCree moved, just as there was a loud smash of Sombra, or more likely Sombra’s teleport flying straight through the Target’s window. For a feckin’ InvisiSpy, she wasn’t the most subtle brick in the wall.  
The hacker’s voice came through: “I’m in.”

“What the – “ McCree’s whole body suddenly snapped into Action Mode at the crash, so Moira did what her heels had foretold, and tripped directly on to him.  
“Agh!” He tried to either throw her or catch her, neither worked, and she ended up with one knee caught on his arm and a cowboy boot toe jabbed in her back. Tactical fall successful.  
“Sombra, get the kid and get out of there!” Reyes warned from the van.  
“Agh! She kicked me! She has spurred boots!” Sombra yelped, and something smashed inside the house. Whelp, naughty children get the succ ball.  
“Au revoir, McCree.” Moira grinned, gave a wave of her sad, talonless fingers and vanished into a whiff of smoke. McCree looked like he’d been hit by one his own flashbangs, but she didn’t have time to watch, as she was already over the fence and half-way through the broken window.

The scene she came to was a laugh and a half. Sombra the Delinquent had some big blonde teen girl piggybacked on her like a Viking backpack, the Target was winding up for another kick, while a Chinese kid with red tips had picked up a lamp. Sweet mother o’ Jesus, if Moira had a camera…but she only had balls. As soon as she tossed one out, purple tails latched on to the kids even as they turned around; the blonde one slipped off, and the one with the lamp swayed, energy drained. Moira’s sucking hand went straight for the Target, whose eyes rolled. She snatched her up as she fainted, just in time – there was a crash as McCree exploded through what was left of the window.

“See you later.” Sombra smirked, grabbed Moira’s arm, and with a lurch they were back in the van.  
“Yes!! Yes!!” Reyes punched happy a dent in the SUV ceiling, then floored it. “I was worried there for a second – Sombra what the hell?”  
“I – “ Sombra ripped off her goatee, “ – hate – “ she tore off her dingy hoodie, “ – this – “ she yanked her baggy jeans off, “ – cover!”  
“Well, whatever works!” Reyes cackled as Sombra dragged her usual outfit back on with one a hell of a sourpuss on her. “Moira, open the door!”

Moira leaned over and wrenched the SUV door open, only to have Amelie fly through on her grapple rope into the moving car and kick Moira into the opposite side. It really should have been painful, but as a disaster lesbian it was among Top Sexy Moments of All Time.  
“You are already dead.” She hissed. God and sweet baby jesus, this got better.  
“Nani?” Moira sighed dreamily.  
“Ugh!” Amelie snapped, and slammed the door behind her.

“How’s it look from the outside?” Reyes hadn’t sounded this happy since they’d spied on him watching footage of McCree directing Blackwatch spin class. There was the dull _tink_ of cowboy bullets on the SUV back.  
“They are following. Slower vehicle, so we should outrun them.” Amelie huffed and crossed her arms. Moira just did a Sombra and started to tear her own clothes off (definitely not for Amelie! Haha). She could probably stick her nails back on by the time they reached the abandoned amusement park.

“Hahaha, I knew McCree would pick some bottom of the barrel truck instead of a fuel economic, 7-seater SUV with optional turbo-engine speed and 4 wheel drive to boot!” Reyes cackled, and swerved the car in between traffic.  
“You know I just spent 10 minutes as a racist suburban mam named Chanelle, and that’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve heard all day.” Moira commented mildly, and lovingly pulled on a giant shoe. No heels. Praise th’ feckin’ lord.  
“Really? Pathétique.” Amelie huffed and shot her the evils.

“Ey, Akande, we got the kid.” Sombra, now much more chipper in her usual clothes, leaned over and facetimed the Target, who was out to it in the seat aisle.  
“Great job team!” Akande clenched his giant gold fist in celebration. “Wait, is she wearing a cowboy hat?”  
“Seriously?” Reyes hacked, turned around in the seat, still going at top speed, then broke down into hysterics. “Sh-sh-she’s a _McCreeaboo!”_  
He started to grow Darkness Tentacles, he was in such a conniption.

“Tch, so unfortunate.” Moira couldn’t keep the smile off her face.  
“Yeah, laugh it up. None of you got stabbed by a spur.” Sombra pointed at the sliver of blood on her leg, which Moira tossed some yellow goo at.  
“Baby.”  
“’ey, I’m the reason you’re not cowboy food right now.”  
“The implication that McCree would eat Moira if he caught her is the worst, so moving on.” Akande continued. “The helicopter is ready, and I even managed to get some of the omnics we ordered here. Good job, everyone. Doomfist out.”

As Reyes screeched through more traffic, Moira couldn’t help but feel a smidge proud. One of their plans, albeit a mite insane, had worked.

***

Toshiro swallowed with a dizzy burn of anxiety that went straight to his gut. He was really going to do this. Run away. They’d thought about it before, him and Kimba, when the living had got a bit rough. But they’d enjoyed irritating their foster parents to the point of getting sent back for re-adoption too much to actually do it. It became a game, even. But this was different. These people were dangerous. These people _killed_. Not a game. Not a game at all. Toshiro didn’t dare think about what would happen if he got caught.

He took a deep breath and unzipped his backpack just to recheck the contents for the fiftieth time. He’d just do what they did in the movies. Hitch-hike or catch a bus, lay low in a motel, then call his parents…  
“Ok.” Toshiro peered out his window. This was the only way out he knew of that didn’t mean going past Hideki in the lounge. There was his window ledge, then some sort of decorative trellis on the side he could climb, and then it was just a quick vault over the fence and he was home free.  
“Shoes. _Fuck_.” Toshiro spat, as he smacked his forehead. Left at the front door out of habit, like every day.  
“You idiot.” He sighed to himself, then took another breath. Maybe he could make a ‘snack run’ or something into the kitchen and snatch his shoes while he was about it? Yeah. Maybe.

The throb of Toshiro’s heart filled his head as he stepped out into the hallway. Hideki, that asshole criminal, had unweighted their doors for their night, so he didn’t have to prop it open with a dumbbell or something. 

With steps that were probably too casual to be casual, he crept along the hallway and down the first few stairs – only to freeze in horror. Hideki was leaned up against the kitchen island, a long chef’s knife in one hand, eyes fixed on the TV that Toshiro couldn’t see. Without even looking, he flashed the blade up and down a sharpener rod with easy dexterity. In his low-cut gym shirt, his tattooed muscles flicked. How had Toshiro not noticed how massively _criminal_ this man looked?

“Today, as promised, _Crime Time’s_ ‘Best’ segment is dedicated to the Claymore Killer,” The TV rattled off. “She started with her brother – but how many more victims fell to her mad reign of terror?”  
“Pfft, sounds like you, eh Hideki?” Goku’s cheery laugh sounded hollow in Toshiro’s ears. The way Hideki’s face hardened with annoyance and the pointed, harsh scrape of his knife turned Toshiro’s blood to ice. He did an about turn and tip-toed back up the stairs again. No. No way was he going down there. Slippers would do fine.

The window slid open without a sound – the benefit of living in a relatively new house. The ground seemed a long way away, especially in the low light of the setting sun. He’d have to move quickly if he wanted to be down and away before dark. Toshiro shifted his leg up, but the press of his new phone in his jeans made him freeze. He’d read on the internet that parents could put, like, location apps or whatever on them… with a reluctant sigh, Toshiro scribbled Kimba’s number on his hand, then chucked his phone on his bed. Better safe than sorry.  
“C’mon ninja blood, do me a solid.” He gave a small prayer that if some part of his ancestry had been ninjas, that they would possess his gangly limbs for just this tiny climb. Then he swung a leg out the window.

“Alright, you can do this.” Toshiro sucked in a breath, did _not_ look down, and slotted his foot into the latticework. His heart lurched as it creaked and bowed for a moment, but for once he was glad of his lightweight frame; the lattice stayed in place when he shifted his hand and other legs on to it.  
“Ok, cool, cool.” Toshiro breathed, but after that, it was just one foot and hand after another, and then he was on the ground.  
“Sweet.” He tried not to feel too gleeful as he darted over to the fence, hefted himself up and over it, and landed squarely on the other side. He didn’t notice the little device by the fence. It didn’t even blink.

“Alright, phew.” Toshiro jogged a little through their neighbour’s garden until he hit the street again. If luck was on his side, it would be morning by the time Hideki noticed he was gone. But luck was having a surprise fling with Talon tonight.  
“Oi, you’re Sierra-Kubo-san’s kid right?” What the? That creepy real estate agent from the cafe?  
“What the hell are you doing he – “ Something solid – an arm in a suit sleeve? – snaked around his neck. Pressure burned on the sides of his throat as he choked and kicked like Hideki had told him, but his arms stung with pins and needles… and then things began to get fuzzy.  
“Well. That was easy.” The woman smirked, her voice muted, and then a blanket of black washed her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There they go :3 I think Kimba has the better Genre of criminal on her case lololol :P Chapter title goes out to commenter Pennydragon who said Talon have the energy of this song xD
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of the chapter! :D Maybe even what you think will happen next! :DD
> 
> My [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	44. Being A Drama Shimada

“[Oi, Gengyo, garden trip triggered.]” Hanzo pointed at the window beside the TV as his phone bleeped an alert.  
“[Eh? Why do I have to - ]”  
“[Because I am older and you are closer.]” Hanzo huffed and swiped to take a look at the thermal images. Usually the sensors did not pick up small animals, so it was either something large or a threat.  
“[Ugh - ]”  
“[Shit!]” Hanzo spat as they featured a somewhat familiar shape of blotches. Toshiro, in the garden, with a backpack, like some Cluedo accusation. What the hell was that boy doing? Hanzo streaked forward, obliterated the window with a kick and a loud crash, and leapt through it, then up the fence in a single motion. A broken window was easy to excuse – he would simply tell Toshiro that Genji was deathly afraid of large moths, and Hanzo had tried to dispose of one. A missing Toshiro, however, would be less easy to explain to everyone.

The night stretched out in front of him, a swath of amber-lit gloom. Not a trace of the boy. How? He could not have left the street. Perhaps he had hidden from –  
A car in the street pulled out with its lights off and shot away down the road. Talon. It had to be. There was no time to think of how Toshiro had been lured out. There was no time to think of why.  
“You get the car!” Genji cried, and pelted after the vehicle, a green blur in the night.  
“Do not fret. I have your gear.” Zenyatta floated out of the window with his bow case. But Hanzo didn’t have time to thank the monk; instead he bleeped the car doors unlocked as he ran over to it.  
“Backseat door open, engine on, Merc-chan.” Hanzo jammed in the key, and tried to ignore the excited squeal his car made. Zenyatta floated very quickly into the back, and had barely pulled the door shut before Hanzo stepped on it.

“Talk to me!” Hanzo speed-dialled Genji and threw the phone on the shotgun seat.  
“Heading east down Chamber Street, am trying to secure a tracker.” Genji panted, cybernetics pushed to the limit as he tried to catch up with the vehicle. Hanzo had heard that Genji had once clocked a steady 60km per hour when he was in his angry Blackwatch state and Reyes driven away from a Papa John’s with pizza and left him behind, but was unsure whether that was fact or rumour. Nonetheless even robo-crotch could not outrun a speeding car.

“Use shortcuts. Whatever necessary.” Hanzo barked and yanked the wheel to drift hard right.  
“[Senpai, we can’t go any faster! It’s against the speed limit!]” Merc-chan pleaded.  
“Do not all sexy men go fast?” Hanzo put his foot down. There was little traffic at night, but that was working to their quarry’s advantage too.  
“[You might go to jail and become all rough and mean, Deki-chan!]” These more expensive cars were not programmed to inhibit speed, but they were programmed to beg the driver in any way possible not to break the law.  
“Well if all sexy men go fast, I’m the sexiest,” Genji yelped over the phone. “but even then I’m losing them. Robin Avenue, they ran a light at the News Block intersection, and seem to be heading west.”  
“If you cannot catch them, get their plate number from the traffic camera. I will pursue.” Hanzo gritted his teeth as panic burned his belly at the idea they might fail. How had this happened? If only he had gone out immediately and not quarrelled with Genji…

No. It will be alright. Everything would be fine. Talon may be slippery, but they had six agents, some of the best trackers in the world, and a license plate was all they needed. Hanzo blinked as he careened down the street. What? Had Talon slipped him drugs? Where were these unnatural and strange thoughts coming from?  
“Oi!” Hanzo barked as a bright golden orb bobbed beside him. “Do not cloud my mind with your positivity.”  
“Hm. Perhaps it may be overwhelming for you.” Zenyatta sighed, and glow faded.  
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hanzo glowered, and took another rough corner, but the empty street made his stomach sink. The head start had been too much. Hanzo was only guessing which way they had gone, and if he continued, he may put more distance between them than less.

“A dry desert cannot drink more water than it is accustomed to.” The monk said sagely.  
_“Excuse – “_  
“I have their plate.” Genji interrupted Hanzo’s outrage, just as another call bleeped on Hanzo’s phone. McCree. Shit. With a rough lurch, Hanzo pulled into a city park, and added him to the call. Should he report the truth? Perhaps if they sorted this out fast enough, McCree would not have to know of this failure. _His_ failure. Then again, with Zenyatta hovering like a fully manifested conscience in his back seat, Hanzo supposed it was unlikely he would get away with it.

“Talk.”  
“Talon got Kimba. Get Toshiro to ground and send backup.” McCree’s grim tone twisted Hanzo’s stomach. Truth it was then.  
“They took Toshiro too.” He gritted out, and gripped the wheel so hard it hurt. Rain plipped on the window screen as clouds rolled in, called to his anger. “Lured him outside the house. I do not know how. We are tracking him.”  
There was a pause, but only for a second.  
“Then I guess neither of us are gettin’ backup.” He sighed, and his voice softened just a bit. “Good luck, Hanzo.”  
McCree’s words made the failure hit Hanzo harder, and some of his rage eked away.  
“Good luck to you too, Jesse.” He murmured, swiped McCree out of the conversation, and slumped a little on the wheel.

“Oooh~ good luck Jesse!” Genji mimicked in a girly voice, and Hanzo made an incensed growl.  
“Cease your babble and do your job.”  
“Where’s my good luck _aniki?”_  
“May the Iris smile upon your task.” Zenyatta happily provided, as though giving Genji a parallel was helpful.  
“Love ya too Zenpai.” The menace simply chortled, and Hanzo rolled his eyes. A slice of worry cut into his gut at the thought of not being able to be at McCree’s back. But he had done hundreds of missions before this one, all without Hanzo. McCree would be fine.

***

When Toshiro blinked back to, they were still in transit. His head rested on something firm but warm.  
“Oi, what the hell?” He then jumped as he realized he’d been passed out on some thug’s shoulder. Zip ties bit at his wrists and ankles. The real estate creep on his right, who he hadn’t been KO’d on, smiled at him in a really cold way and said something in Japanese. Toshiro just squinted.  
“What?”  
_“Nihongo hanasemasu ka?”_ She scoffed. Ooh, he knew that one! It meant ‘do you speak Japanese?’.  
_“Īe.”_ He knew ‘no’ too. And that was about as far as his conversational skills went after, like, nine lessons of Level one Japanese. He knew how to ask about how many cats were under the table at the tea shop, but didn’t think that little nugget was going to be particularly helpful.

The occupants of the car gave bawdy laughs.  
“Your father hasn’t taught you Japanese?” Real estate creep raised her eyebrows. “What a disgrace.”  
“Yeah, he’s a huge disgrace. Just awful.” Toshiro sneered back. They wanted to insult Hideki? They could fuckin insult Hideki. He would happily join them, whoever they were.  
“What, doesn’t buy you enough icecream?” She pouted in fake sympathy.  
“No, he spend like loads of money to weight our room doors so he decides when we don’t get to be in his company.” Toshiro huffed.  
“Wow, actually weird.” The big lady who’d throttled him and then acted as a pillow mumbled from beside him.  
“Yeah! Thank you! Real weird. He’s also the snootiest rich bitch in the world, lording his money over whoever, acting all superior, making everyone do what he wants to do…” Toshiro sighed. That actually felt good to get off his chest, even if it was to his kidnappers.

“Holy fuck, shut it kid, we didn’t ask for a life story.” Real estate creep rolled her eyes. “And Saito! Stop running red lights! The last thing we want is cops.”  
“It’s night time! There’s no one around!”  
“Yeah, well I’m around and I’m giving you an order.” She growled. It was then Toshiro noticed a gun on her belt. A burn of fear shot up his chest, but he swallowed it. Gotta keep cool. Gotta show these people he wasn’t afraid. They probably just wanted to get to his real parents…wait, but they thought Hideki was his dad. 

“Who are you people anyway?” Toshiro scowled. Real estate creep just cocked her head and eyed him with a gaze that glittered.  
“Well, it won’t hurt you to know. I’m Koike Mariko, Matsumoto Clan. Your father messed with the Yakuza. Nobody fucks with us. So he’s gonna come for you, and we’re going to waste him. And if he doesn’t come, he’ll get you back. In pieces.” Her smile went cruel and cold, and Toshiro just glared at the dashboard. Hideki wouldn’t come for him for sure. Hideki hated him. At least his theory about Hideki being a criminal had been right, but the proof was a real kick in the dick. Toshiro curled his fingers a bit to convince himself he wasn’t shaking.

When they finally reached their destination, the Yakuza squad led Toshiro into a big warehouse on the docks, the type with gangways and big roll-up doors. Lean gangsters with hard stares smoked and eyed him as he passed, so Toshiro did his best to glare back. If he was going to get diced up to be blackmail material, he was going to be a dick about it. Toshiro could just imagine Hideki in his slutty silk bathrobe calmly sorting through mail, opening a box with Toshiro’s finger in it, sighing, and throwing it in the trash with some comment to Marcos like: ‘oh that? Yes, they have done all his fingers, so we should expect toes from now on.’ Bastard.

“Get him comfortable.” Mariko gestured at the most uncomfortable metal chair Toshiro had ever seen in his life. Rain pitter-pattered on the metal roof.  
“Oh, living in the lap of luxury here I see.” Toshiro sneered as he was manhandled into the chair. His zip-locks were cut only to be replaced by rope that tied him to it. Fat lot of use Hideki’s karate training was now against a warehouse full of gangsters.  
“You don’t deserve anything more.” Mariko pulled out her phone.  
“Who are you to tell me what I deserve?” Toshiro said with a note of Hideki’s haughtiness. To be honest, it was liberating to just be a bitch. Maybe that’s why Hideki was the way he was.

“Ooh, got a real stuck up one here.” A shortish man with fat jowls snatched Mariko’s phone out of her hand, just as she unlocked it. An entourage in suits trailed behind him.  
“Yamazaki-san?! What are you doing here?” Mariko hissed, and her whole frame went rigid with rage. Hm. Looked like these two had history.  
“Oh I heard that the Boss was after that weevil who burned our fronts. Thanks for bringing in his son and getting his number. I’ll take it from here.” Yamazaki smirked, and Toshiro could hear her teeth grinding. So the Yakuza thought Hideki was an _arsonist_ of all things? Wha-why???  
“You have no – “  
“I am your superior Koike-chan, and you’re just a dog with too much ambition. Sit down and let the big Yakuza deal with this. The Boss will be very happy to hear about _my_ success.” Yamazaki leered and presumably dialled Hideki’s number. 

“Everyone shut it!” He barked as he put Mariko’s phone on speaker, and wandered over beside Toshiro. A burn of nerves throbbed in his chest. He’d seen people in movies yell out locations. But should he try it if Hideki wouldn’t even care? Well, every shot not taken was a shot missed, as Uncle Goku would say. _Uncle Goku!_ A swell of hope lit up Toshiro’s chest. Even if Hideki didn’t give a shit, maybe…

The ringing clicked off as the call was picked up.  
“Hideki Sierra-Kubo-san, am I right?” Yamazaki jeered into the phone.  
“Speaking. Who is this?” Hideki’s voice was sharp, and imperial as ever.  
“Yamazaki Ichirou, Regional Manager of the Matsumoto Clan. I – “  
“Warehouse on west dock – agh!” Toshiro gasped as Yamazaki’s fist connected with his cheek.  
Adrenaline and pain throbbed through him, so sudden it made him dizzy, even worse, his eyes began to water. No. No, he wasn’t fucking crying in front of these bastards.  
“As you can hear we have your son alive and well.” Yamazaki sneered into the phone. Hideki had not said word. Not called out or even yelled in anger… “But that will change if you don’t come to the Fifth Warehouse on the West Shore docks, alone, by 8pm. We have eyes everywhere, and will know if you go whining to the cops.”

Yamazaki smirked, a picture of cocky triumph as Toshiro panted. He could already feel tightness in his cheek where it was swelling. There was a moment of silence. Hideki wouldn’t sacrifice himself for him. Toshiro was so sure he would hear a click and an empty dial tone.  
“Yamazaki-san.” Hideki’s tone was eerily calm, and a shot of chills prickled Toshiro’s neck. “My name is Shimada Hanzo. I will come and collect my son. You will pay for any harm you have caused him. And then the Matsumoto Clan will leave this city.”

A loud _clack_ echoed around the silent warehouse as the phone slipped out of Yamazaki’s hand and hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so gotdamn hard somehow getting Toshiro out of that house - they'd almost rigged it up TOO well and irl would have probably got to Toshiro in time 😂 o well :P Rescues imminent on both fronts! :D Please correct me if my Japanese isn't right Dx back at it again with Google translate....
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please leave a comment to tell me what you thought! :D I love talkin with you guys n.n
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	45. Welcome to Clown Town

Mariko was the first to move. Toshiro raised an eyebrow as she dove for the phone, but Hideki – or Hanzo now? – had already hung up.   
“You kidnapped Shimada Hanzo’s son?! The _Shimada heir?”_ Yamazaki yelled and clutched both hands into his hair.  
“I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know!” Mariko backpedalled, white as a sheet. Toshiro just tried to keep his face neutral. Ok, maybe Hid - Hanzo was somehow a bigger deal than he’d guessed (come on, for sure the guy was a hoe, not the Godfather or anything). And now the Yakuza he was with thought Toshiro was the son – even _heir_ (fancy) – of some uber meanie. So he’d better keep his mouth shut about being some adopted mutt, huh?

“You’re going to be the one to pay for this, not me.” Yamazaki waved a thick finger at Mariko, when another lady piped up.  
“What’s the big deal? Who the heck’s Shimada Hanzo?”  
“Eh? You haven’t heard of him?” The chick who’d squeezed the consciousness out of Toshiro almost whispered in a low voice, beads of sweat like diamonds on her brow.  
“Come on, I’m just a front dog in America. Homeland politics aren’t my thing.” She shrugged, and looked around as a few others nodded in agreement.

“The Shimada Clan was the largest Yakuza entity in Japan, like the Matsumoto Clan is now – and we’re just made up of its leftovers.” Yamazaki seemed to be having a panic attack. Oh well. He could have a heart attack for all Toshiro cared. “It was sizeable under Fourth Chairman Shimada Sojiro, his father, but when Shimada Hanzo, the Dragon of Hanamura, became Fifth Chairman, he gathered hundreds of subsidiaries. Most of Japan was his, and he even took half of Tokyo. And now he’s here!”

A murmur passed around the group, and Toshiro had to try to not crack up. The guy he knew? Was this an elaborate prank? Hid - Hanzo was sure rich enough to stage this.  
“The Dragon of Hanamura – they say the dragons on his arm come alive and devour!” A worried voice rose above the rest.  
“And his shots never miss.” Toshiro’s guard wrung her hands.  
“I heard he killed his brother to achieve absolute power.” Mariko sighed and almost looked dreamy. Now _that_ one Toshiro could believe.  
“I heard that he summons thunder and lightning!” Another chick cried, and just as she did, a clap of thunder rattled the metal boardwalks above. This collection of hardened criminals suddenly devolved into shrieking 7th graders around a ghost story camp fire.

“Shut up! Everyone shut up!”   
Toshiro jumped out of his skin as something deafening split the air. A gun. Holy shit, that was louder than the movies, and made him freeze in fear.  
“He’s just one fucking man.” Yamazaki shoved his gun back in his holster, skin shiny with sweat. “You know what kills men? Guns. He comes, we shoot him, and shoot the kid to be clean. Tell the Boss Koike-chan here fucked up, got too excited and killed our guy, yeah?”

Mariko bowed her head, and Toshiro could see her jaw work. But hey, they were all criminals that wanted to either punch him, put him in a Slap Chop and mail him to secondary locations and, most recently, blow his brains out. So yeah. Not much pity. 

***

“What? The Yakuza?” McCree’s eyebrows almost punched each other out as Ana screeched the truck down some bumpy backwater road that Talon had hightailed along.  
“Yeah, this one’s on us.” Genji sighed. “But if it’s any consolation, Hanzo is super pissed by those ‘low-life curs disrespecting a dragon lord’ – his words not mine – and has his left tit out, so he means business. The Business Tit.”  
“Well I’ll leave reprimands for later.” McCree rolled his eyes and chewed his cigar. “Just get the kid back.”  
“Thanks, yeah. I can’t stop thinking about what they might to do him, or how they might hurt him to blackmail us…” Genji trailed off and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Positive thoughts. This should be over quickly, and we’ll get to your location as soon as possible. Out.”

As McCree jabbed the End Call button, a simmer of Genji’s worry burned his stomach. Talon weren’t known for their kindness, and they had Kimba specifically for the purpose of blackmail. If him, Ana and Rein couldn’t cart her off with them, well…McCree wished he’d hate to guess what would happen, but from his Blackwatch days, he knew more than enough t’ get him champin’ at the bit to get out there.

“Is zat what I think it is?” Reinhardt said in a wondrous voice as they burst out of the pines. A rusted iron sign read _Bizarre Merriment_ above busted black barred gates. Talon’s olive SUV sat just a little inside them, the path blocked by a haphazard ticket booth that sported blotchy red stripes.  
“Well at least Gabe will be happy.” McCree grizzled, and snapped off his seatbelt.  
“Now, we all need to stick together. There are three of us and four of them, counting Doomfist, perhaps five.” Ana collected her rifle as Rein slid the back of the truck open. Rain drizzled down, and thunder rolled over the city in the distance. Whelp, at least they knew where Hanzo was.

“Wilhelm, shield up as soon as we are out. It may broadcast our position, but there are too many sniper perches.” Ana’s eye ranged over the crooked outlines of a dilapidated Ferris wheel, a helter-skelter, and rollercoaster against the moon. “Reyes will likely try to flank us with his team – McCree, I want you on rear guard to try and flashbang, and I will knock them out.”

“Yes ma’am. Kimba’s phone tracker says she’s dead ahead.” McCree squinted into what would have been gloom fer a normal man, but was easy enough for him. The edges lit up a little more as Reinhardt snapped open his shield, and his armour expanded out of his backpack. A big neon sign that said WE ARE HERE.  
“Stick together now.” Ana handed him an ear com for backup, and they set off at a light jog, or a heavy power-walk in Rein’s case. Stealth wasn’t exactly Mr 7ft Tall, 120 Decibel, Clanking-Like-Old-Pipes’s forte. But apart from Rein’s crunchy jogging, it was silent. No bullets, no O’Deorain Disco Balls, no ominous fisting noises in the distance…

They were coming up to an wide corridor of old stalls now. A perfect place for an ambush – and that’s when McCree saw it. A clown out of the corner of his eye.  
“I think Moira’s on our three.” McCree muttered into his com, so that Rein could hear too. McCree bet the Crusaders hadn’t had coms so that they could roar vigorously at each other in German all day.  
“You think?” Ana hissed.  
“Looked like a clown, and who else – “ McCree stopped as he saw a second one. Either Moira had successfully made a clone of herself that she hadn’t murdered, or those were omnics Gabe had got his hands on.  
“Omnics, our three and nine!” McCree hissed, aimed, and there was a distressed honk noise as his bullet hit it square in the nose. Between a blonde, manicured Moira and the clown army flanking them, man, McCree had not been ready for today. 

Ana cursed in Arabic and pressed up against Reinhardt as he rotated to try and head behind the right side stalls, where McCree had just killed the clown omnic. There they had cover from the left-side omnics, and the shield would help with the ones behind these stalls. 

They ducked behind the rotten Whack-A-Mole and McCree’s jaw tightened as he saw a group of maybe a few less’n twenty omnics, all in clown shoes, all with bright frills on their automatic wrist guns. Bullets thudded against Rein’s shield as creepy clown laughter filled the air. Damnit Gabe, _why?_ McCree thought as he picked off one, two, three…  
“Barrier won’t hold forever!” Rein yelled. McCree gritted his teeth and swept his gaze up as he shot without really looking. Talon’s plan was to get rid of Reinhardt’s shield, have Widow pick him and Ana off, and the close fighters could then take the knight down when he had no healing or flank support. That’s what McCree would done with this setup. But not on his watch.

“Bingo.” McCree growled as he spotted the slim line and tell-tale arch of Widow’s ponytail amidst the spokes of the Ferris wheel.   
“Ana, Ferris wheel, upper right third.” He jerked his head and shot another omnic clown, whose rainbow wig rolled away like gay tumbleweed.  
“Well spotted.” Ana took a breath in. But while their attention had been fixed on the skyline, and Reinhardt’s attention fixed on cover he could bundle them all under when his shield broke, none of them noticed the slither of shadowy tentacles across the overgrown grass.  
“You’ve yee’d your last haw.” Gabe’s gravelly voice cackled in McCree’s ear.   
“Mph!” A hand wrapped over his mouth before he could yell at Ana, a thick arm snaked around his waist, and then his team were consumed by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we hanging on a double cliff hanger now?? D: whoopsie 8I hehe
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of the chapter! ^-^b Last chapter there were so many comments, the support was amazing!! Thank you so much, I'm so happy you're all invested in the wacky story of mine ehehe n.n
> 
> Next chapter we will see Hanzo use his Business Tit FOR SURE :3
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	46. Jumpscared By The Twink of Christmas Past

Toshiro had never been in such a muted atmosphere that buzzed with so much energy before. It made him, the cool mysterious kid, want to don heinous knee-length shorts and play a rousing game of Lucioball just to relieve the tension. The Yakuza were all huddled together in little groups, murmuring, loading and tapping their guns, jumping at every rumble of thunder, waiting for Hanz-hoe himself to come down unto them and powersquat them into a fine red mist or whatever, Toshiro didn’t know. At least they didn’t come near him; avoided him almost as thoroughly as mama and papa Abiatti. Man, Toshiro could barely even remember what those two looked like.

“Is he even coming?” A weaselly man with a thin pornstache whispered in the nearest group to Toshiro as time ticked on.  
“We have his heir! Of course he’s coming.” Another Yakuza hissed, and then their friend replied in Japanese, and Toshiro lost the conversation again. The only fun one to watch was a grim Mariko, who seemed to be writing her last will and testament on her iPhone.

“Oi, oi!” A man yelled and ran up to Yamazaki, who was a river of sweat perched on a metal table (beside some instruments Toshiro would rather not think too much about) near Toshiro. It didn’t take an A in Japanese to figure out the man was giving a report. Even clearer when Yamazaki yelled for a huddle, then sent groups off, presumably to watch different entrances. Of course, he kept a little entourage around himself, because if Toshiro had picked up anything, it was that this man was a baldfaced coward and shit scared.

Time marched on and Toshiro’s hands and feet started to go a bit numb, whereas his stomach growled like something else. Couldn’t he at least have a snack break on the wait for impending doom? Being shot in the head would go down smoother with a McFlurry. Yamazaki’s phone rang, and he answered it faster than Uncle Goku on a sugar high from their cookies. Toshiro was proud that he could actually pick up some words this time.  
“[What? Where - ]”

_KRAK-OOM!_

The lights flickered as thunder shook the building, and lightning blazed outside. Someone screamed, but not in fear, and they didn’t stop. Every head in the warehouse turned towards the upper right walkway where the cries came from. Toshiro watched open-mouthed as Hid – Hanzo strode in, an archery bow in one hand, and a man dragged along by his hair in the other. The pressed suit was gone, and in its place was a black gi of some kind that exposed the whole left side of his chest. The dragon tattoo on his arm seemed to crackle and glow in the low light. 

Hanzo reached the centre of the walkway, and just tossed the man over the side of the railing with an easy movement. A clot of horror hit Toshiro’s throat as the scream went frantic and ended with a wet crunch. He’d just killed a man. Toshiro’s adopted dad had just… Toshiro’s vision went a little blurry, and even though the Yakuza in front of him blocked his view…he could imagine... 

A shocked silence muted the warehouse.  
“Do I have your attention?” Hanzo barked, teeth bared as he glared down with eyes that glowed blue. That brought Toshiro back. That couldn’t be real. This was all some.. weird stress dream.  
“Fire! _Fire!”_ Yamazaki yelled, and broke the horrified silence. A deafening barrage of sound made Toshiro cringe, and press the ear closest to the noise against his shoulder. Nobody noticed two shadows slip in opposite side of the warehouse.

When the gunfire stopped, Hanzo’s annoyingly handsome face had not been turned into bullet-ridden pulp though. Daddy dearest had vanished.  
“So which one of you hurt my son?” A menacing growl seemed to echo around the whole warehouse. An odd bubble of happiness sparked in Toshiro’s chest at that. There was silence interspersed by minor whimpering. Even Yamazaki didn’t dare to speak in case it singled him out. 

And then Toshiro saw Mariko shift her arm ever so slightly up across her chest to point at her boss. There was a whoosh, a small glottal noise, and Yamazaki collapsed backwards almost on to Toshiro’s foot. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, blank, and an arrow stuck out of his neck.  
“Backbiting scum. What I would expect from the Matsumoto Clan.” Hanzo sneered, and blue eyes lit up the darkness on top of a crane or whatever the shit this warehouse had. Toshiro’s brain was going kinda numb. He couldn’t stop looking at the dead man at his feet. Blood pooled on the concrete.

_Dink d-dink dink_

As Hanzo spoke, something like metal on metal hit real close to Toshiro. It took a second for him to realize his hands and feet were free, but by that time, strong metal arms had already picked him up.  
“Goku?” Toshiro gaped, as the cyborg dashed into the shadows.  
“I’m so glad you’re safe.” As soon as he was put on his feet, Toshiro was enveloped by a tight hug. “I was so worried about you.”  
Goku patted his cheek, and looked down at him, and for the first time in forever, Toshiro smiled. God, it almost hurt. Nobody except Kimba had ever been _worried_ about him before.  
“Thank you for coming for me.” He wrapped his arms around Goku and breathed out in relief. Everything would be alright because Goku was here, and Hanzo too… 

Goku stroked his hair for a moment.  
“We should leave while Hideki is distracting them.” He drew back, and Toshiro was almost sad to let the contact go. Which was saying a _lot_ from a guy known at the adoption agency as He Who Bites. Then he realized Goku was entirely naked. Uh, _why??_ But he supposed that was a question for later.  
“His name’s Hanzo, right?” Toshiro hugged himself, and looked around. This warehouse was crawling with gun-toting gangsters. Would the two of them be ok?  
“Ah, yes, Hanzo, of course.” Goku patted his shoulder. “If that’s the case you should know my real name is Genji, and this is Zenyatta.”

The Shambali monk emerged from the shadows behind Toshiro, who almost jumped a foot, and gave a silent wave. Holy shit. Why had he been lurking in the gloom? If Toshiro’s brain hadn’t been so numb, he might have recognized Genji’s name, but right now he just nodded and accepted. They could explain later.

“Come on now, let’s get out of here.”  
Toshiro could hear the smile in Genji’s voice, then the cyborg ruffled his hair. He was so happy, he didn’t even try and bite his metal hand.  
“Ok.” Toshiro swallowed and peered around, and then something made him take a nice deep breath. They would be ok. They would get out of this warehouse fine, none of his body parts would end up in the mail, and Hanzo would gather him into his massive bosom and they would all have a family hug. Ok. What the hell. 

He glanced at Zenyatta and saw the monk watching him, bathed in golden light coming from something.  
“What?” He tried to sound a little gruff and scowl, but his heart wasn’t in it.  
“Ah, just making sure your desert had not been over watered.” The monk said happily and Toshiro sent him a weird look as he floated on ahead.

Hanzo watched Genji dash away with the boy, then glowered down at the insolent curs beneath him. It was not just he himself that boiled with ire. His dragons, for some reason, were restless; they crackled under his skin to be released, and hissed in his mind almost as if they had been offended.  
“All of you will drop your weapons. Unless you wish to end up like your fearless Regional Manager...” Hanzo let the threat hang, and kept his eye on Genji, Zenyatta and Toshiro as they crept around behind the back of the main warehouse floor. The Matsumoto Yakuza, spineless as they were, lowered their guns.  
“Call your guards. I want all of you where I can see you.” He motioned to the exits, and there was a moment of confused glances as they tried to figure out to whom the authority fell now. Then the woman who had ratted out her boss tapped open her phone, and began to call them in. Genji’s group was nearly clear…

“[Shimada Hanzo].” A voice he recognized made him freeze. Behind some crates, he saw Genji freeze too. “[ _Ex_ patriarch of the Shimada Clan, _ex_ Fifth Chairman, traitor and deserter. You don’t have the rank to order my family around].”  
Hanzo bristled head to foot as he watched the old hag walk into the centre of a survey platform below him.  
“[Matsumoto Ryokyo. First Chairwoman and matriarch of the Matsumoto Clan].” He spat, and slid an arrow from his quiver. The lower ranks in the middle kind of gaped at the fact their matriarch was here in America, amongst them, the trash and swill.  
“[How is your darling brother? I see he is alive and quite well despite your explicit orders to kill him.]” She smirked as her beady eyes searched for where Genji and the others hid, the same smirk Hanzo had seen decades ago in the Officer’s Meeting of the Shimada Clan headquarters. 

_Shimada Genji’s loyalties are in question. The Rokkaku Association and the veritable Komaki Clan have it on good intel that he has contacts with Overwatch and other global organizations seeking to bring the Shimada Clan and its networks down. A traitor to the Clan must be investigated and eliminated if too great a threat. We apologize, Shimada no Aniki – but a Chairman and Patriarch must put the good of Clan above a single person. Perhaps if you deal with this matter directly, then the families’ faith in you will be cemented unquestionably. Your father would have certainly not let himself be undermined._

And she had watched as Hanzo had carried out her scheme with the lust of a child driven by honour. Had watched him crumble more the mightier he rose. Had hovered like a shadow, a perfect Retainer to the Fifth Chairman of the Shimada Clan, until he had fallen, and she remoulded his empire into her hands. His dragons snarled in his mind, hungry. Hangry, McCree might say. With their snarl on his lips, he latched an arrow to his bow, and fired it straight at her black heart.

***

Meanwhile in clown town, Wilhelm’s shield broke, and Ana dove into the nearest booth for cover. As soon as he saw she was safe, he gave a mighty _hyah!_ and charged the omnics. There were some dissonant squeaky noises, a spray of clown shoes, then the telltale crunch that meant he’d hit.  
“McCree – “ Ana peered out into the darkness, which was ominously bereft of cowboy.  
“McCree, come in.” She pressed her com, but there was only static. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled in the distance. Could Hanzo be dramatic another day? They were trying to have a serious mission here.

“Wil – “ She was cut off a the _zoom_ of the sniper bullet by her shoulder. “Damnit.”  
With her teeth gritted, Ana crawled back into the booth, and hefted her own rifle. The countertop provided cover, as well as some thin metal rabbits. A shooting gallery. How ironic. 

_Tunk!_

A rabbit on her left went down, so Ana scoped in and shot at her arch nemesis. A miss.

_Tunk!_

A rabbit on her right went down, and Ana gritted her teeth. She could try for a sleep dart, but the aim was not as precise.

_Tunk!_

A rabbit at the back pinged back, and an out-of-tune, wheezy jingle played. Ana almost screamed as a body pillow of Strike Commander Jack Morrison in his twink days fell out of the ceiling. She’d have to post that to Talon when they got out of this. But that would come later. With a deep breath and a steady hand, she scoped in again and fired. She knew she’d hit before an injured Amelie grapple-hooked away.

In the meantime, Reinhardt had happily hammered all the rest of the omnics (in the violent way, not the sexy way) then turned to see where McCree was.  
“Team! Stick together!” He shouted into his com.  
“McCree isn’t coming in. We have to trust that he can look after himself.” Ana’s voice was heavy with decision. “I am at your back.”  
“Right.” Reinhardt swept the darkness for more of these clowning demons to slay. McCree was one of the few from the original days who had not been injured badly enough to fake their own death or have most of their limbs replaced, so Reinhardt supposed he really could look after himself. Even then, he didn’t like leaving a team-mate behind after his experiences, but he had to trust Ana’s judgement call.

“Look! There!” Ana pointed a little way ahead, and Reinhardt squinted. Ah! The foul Irish witch with Kimba slung across her shoulder!  
“My shield is still charging.” He informed his radiant damsel, but they still set off at a jog after the pair. Moira must be just ahead, vanished like a phantom in the mist where Reinhardt could not see – _Clank clank!_

The grass under Reinhardt’s hefty boots turned to metal, and there was a slight movement on his left. Then he froze. Not intentionally. His armour…  
“Sombra! Ana – “

_Screech!_

Something hit him hard in the back of the knees, and swept him forward.

Ana dove out of the way and gritted her teeth as she watched Reinhardt get carried off by the rollercoaster cart with a loud German whoop. A trap. So it was down to her now, huh? Good thing she was slippery.

Before Reinhardt had been tricked into riding the rollercoaster of doom, and Ana had experienced a Strike Commander Jack Morrison bodypillow, McCree was on his own adventure. The darkness cleared, and he rubbed his eyes. There were three of Reaper. Either Moira’s experiments had gone too far, or somethin’ in his brain was goin’ wrong. He rubbed his eyes again. There was three of himself too. Oh. Mirrors. Phew. Praise the fucking sun.  
“I have McCree.” Gabe and all of his reflections said.  
“Why?” came the response over his com.  
“Because I want him. HahahaaHUAHAHAHAAA!” The Gabes cackled and got hung up on by their teammates. Whelp, this was gonna be a fun one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for you suffering suspense xux These two are now in separate GENRES nevermind locations and cliffhangers 😂 lol. Who do you think will clear up their end of the mission first? Vote on ur phones now! :3
> 
> That said, please leave a comment to tell me what you thought of the chapter! The support has been overwhelming, and I always love hearing what y'all have to say x)
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


	47. Dragons and Tigers and Wolves oh my!

“So Jesse. How’ve you been?” Gabe’s reflections swished his cape a little with one hand, and McCree glared to the left, where the sound of chonky boots thudded. The real one was over there somewhere.  
“Seriously?” McCree kept a hand near Peacekeeper, and pushed on a mirror. Solid.  
“Yes, go on, it’s been years.” Somewhere Gabe leaned back on a mirror with a dramatic sigh and created like 20 more of himself.  
“I’m…ok?” McCree side-eyed what he thought was the real Gabe, and pushed on another mirror. Thissun swung in.

“And your dearest strike commander? What does he call himself now?” Gabe must have followed from a different direction or just phased through, because his reflection still roamed the walls like an advertisement for thigh routines.  
“What, yer boyfriend?” That earned an incensed growl. “Still boring and crusty as ever. Makes charts about corn. Y’know, the usual.”  
“Good.” Gabe practically purred. “Nice to hear he’s still a wretch.”  
“And yer totally still into him.” McCree rolled his eyes, and flicked his gaze around as he caught a glint of red that weren’t from any lighting Drama Pants over there mighta set up. He’d never been surrounded by mirrors before. Maybe he shouldn’t stay here too long.  
“Ugh, don’t make me kill you.” Gabe threw his head back, but that just showed McCree’d hit a bullseye without Peacekeeper leaving its holster. “Like your taste is any better.”

That made McCree pause as he felt around for another door, and a big ol’ crush pang made him go all gooey, like a bad gelatine dessert getting smacked by a spoon.  
“I don’t know what yer mean.” He glowered and pushed another mirror. The edge of his glove in the reflection seemed to curl with somethin’ black.  
“Ooh, how about I sing you a song?”  
“Please don’t.”

“Jesse and Hanzo up a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes drugs, then comes death by the Yakuza thugs!” Gabe finished with a hiss, and McCree finally found the next door.  
“What are ya, in preschool?” He slipped into the next room, this time filled with concave and convex mirrors.  
“Are you? In preschool for common sense?” A fat Gabe said from his left, and McCree glared at it.  
“Get off my dick. You’re friends with worst people.” He turned to a likely mirror for a doorway, and didn’t miss the after-trail of red that followed his eye in a bright swipe as he did so. Gabe really should let him out around now. McCree didn’t like what was goin’ on in his reflections. Neither part of him liked it, and that was the weirdest thing.

“Ooh, so it’s true!” A Gabe with massive thighs and a really truncated torso cackled. “What’d he do, bribe you? Come on, you can do better.”  
“What, ya think he’ll betray me like you did?” McCree growled and shoved another door open. That shut Gabe up for a second. Black trailed off McCree’s skin now in the mirror, like desert dust. 

“You know my trust ain’t easy to earn. But he did. So he deserves me, an’ maybe I deserve him.” The thought made McCree’s chest all light. But that was kinda engulfed in a tsunami of panic when, in the next mirror he turned to, his face and clothing was obscured by inky black. What in the…

“Listen to yourself! Deserve that bitch?” A Gabe in the corner of his eye put an offended hand on his chest, as a faceless McCree picked up the pace, pushing on the mirrors. One shifted, so he shoved it.  
“Nice t’ know ya care.” McCree allowed himself a little smirk and a small breath of relief as the entranceway opened up in front of him. He looked down at his flesh hand. Nothing weird. By the noose an’ rope, he weren’t goin’ into one of those places again. There was a small pause.

“Keep your head down, Jesse.”  
A whisper so close that he could feel breath on his ear made the hair on McCree’s neck stand on end. But when he whipped around, there was nothin’ but shadow and slivers of moon caught in the mirrors.

Meanwhile, Ana, the modern day Batman, crouched in the shadows of the rollercoaster control booth, rifle pressed against her chest.  
“There he goes.” Moira shaded her eyes against the moonlight and peered up at the big blob of Reinhardt flying along the steep arches. If there had not been a child at stake, Ana might have been jealous. That looked like such fun.  
“Si.” Sombra put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Anyway, you try and get the grandma. I’ll take McCree Jnr here to the helicopter. Any word on the cowboy?”  
“Reaper just said he grabbed him because he wants him, and I don’t want t’ read too much into that.” Moira shrugged, and handed off a limp Kimba to Sombra.  
“He did say he likes McCree’s aesthetic. Maybe he wants to brainwash him like Amelie.” Sombra hefted Kimba on her shoulder.  
“Y’know, he might look good in the outfit too.” Moira shrugged, and Sombra made a face. “Hey, we all know how much Akande wants to stuff the titty archer in cleavage gear, but McCree might make a passable second.”

Talon sure did sound like they had some fascinating conversations.  
“Whatever ya say. I thought you were Big Lesbian.”  
“I am! But, like, I can appreciate a good man boob.”  
“Should I tell Amelie that?” Sombra smirked, and Moira’s mouth shot open.  
“Don’t you feckin’ dare. Now off wit’ ye.” Moira shooed with her hands, looked around, then vanished in a poof of smoke, aimed vaguely at where Ana and Reinhardt had come from. Well, at least she had escaping embarrassing situations down, Ana thought as Sombra did a scan of the darkness.

“Ugh, come on then.” She shifted Kimba on her shoulder, and Ana aimed her sleep dart. It flew, and hit a perfect bullseye in the hacker’s neck.  
“Naptime.” Ana hummed happily to herself as Sombra ate dirt and made an 3-inch deep hacker-shaped starfish in the ground from Kimba’s added weight. Ana happily trotted over and deadlifted the fourteen year old into her arms. Target secured. Now all she had to do was avoid Moira and get the kid to safety.

*** 

Hanzo’s arrow of revenge did not quite strike at the heart. There was a sharp _ting_ and only Hanzo’s superior reactions made him duck as someone that seriously looked like Genji with a ponytail reflected the arrow. Their metal mask bore the snarl of a big cat, as well as the belt that cinched their armoured waist and the elaborate _sode_ on their shoulders.

“[Ah, how rude of me – I haven’t introduced our guests.]” Mastumoto waved a second figure forward out of the shadows, and Hanzo glowered. This one was a young man who wore a wolf’s pelt as a headdress. He had long black hair and an arrogant smirk, and Hanzo was loathe to admit his general air of douchebaggery may be a slight mirror back in time. But Hanzo was much classier now.  
“[Well, I would have gone with dishonourable backbiting snake, but we can add rude to the mix if you insist.]” Hanzo called, and the inferior wolf man gasped.  
“[How dare you insult our noble – ]“  
“[Be silent, child, your elders are talking.]” Hanzo cut him off, and the boy became so incensed he grabbed the safety rail on the platform.  
“[I see wisdom doesn’t come with age! You’ll take that back. I’ll make you!]” He growled.  
“[With all three of your braincells?]” Hanzo quipped back. Matsumoto just looked amused.

“[This is Ōkami. And this is White Tiger. Your cyborg was doing so well, I just had to get one of my own – well, make one. She is all the weapon your brother is.]” Matsumoto’s old hag eyes glittered as she admired her cursed handiwork.  
“[So you are threatening me with a furry and a metal cat. The only thing I am afraid of is catching fleas.]” Hanzo brushed imaginary dust off his perfect bare nipple, and rode over the angry yell of ‘I am _NOT_ a furry!’ from Ōkami.

“[You high and mighty Shimadas think you are the only family with spirit animals?]” Matsumoto caught his attention with that. “[It took me a while to track lineages, but after working with the Shimadas for so long, I knew it was a very real opportunity, and the key to power. But I had to know if they were stronger than the dragons that burned an empire. I have been searching for you Shimadas, and for a while I thought you had slipped my grasp forever. And then I heard of a skilled insider burning Matsumoto fronts in America – a long shot, I thought, but then again, here I am, striking gold.]”

So Matsumoto wanted to see whether household pets could best a dragon.  
“[Try your flattery elsewhere,]” Hanzo huffed and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, like a bitch pretending not to like gold.  
“[I wasn’t - ?]”  
“[You have hit bedrock, and will go no further.]”  
“[Enough mining metaphors! Let’s get him!]” Ōkami snarled, bristling like the dog he was.  
“[Ooh, a volunteer.]” Hanzo crouched and peered at him as he bared his teeth a little on the last word. His dragons hissed in anticipation, and blue crackled from his eyes. Well, there were three snacks down there just waiting to be devoured.

“Listen,” Genji whispered as he peeked over the crates. “Hanzo might think his big dick energy’s gonna get him through this, but he’s most effective at long distances. The White Tiger looks like she can get close.”  
“You must help him.” Zeyatta intoned, as Toshiro glanced between the two of them.  
“What’s going on? My Japanese isn’t good enough to understand…”  
“Old lady is a big boss, and super evil. Those two are her minions. Hanzo’s gonna throw down, as usual.” Genji hissed back, tensed to leap in. “Zenyatta…”  
“I will protect Toshiro with my life.” The monk nodded gravely, and Genji’s little heart did a flip-flop. Hopefully it would not come to that.

“Good luck, Master.” He bowed his head.  
“And may the Iris be with you, my student.” Zenyatta placed a warm hand on his arm, and Genji pulled his handy dandy taser out of his left calf compartment.  
“If anyone gets close, zap em, kid.” He passed it to Toshiro, who took it like he had been bestowed an ancient sword.  
“Thanks Go – I mean Genji.” He smiled, and all of a sudden looked so young. Some instinct in Genji wanted to stay with him, and make sure he was safe. But he had Zenyatta. There were no safer hands, or worse hands to respectively catch.

Matsumoto jerked her head at White Tiger, and as the cat-like cyborg flashed up towards his brother, Genji dashed and tackled her out of the air. An arrow whooshed past and snipped off a tuft of the other cyborg’s ponytail.  
“[Oi! Find your own fight!]” Hanzo barked, as Genji’s dragon thrummed. He had learned to calm the energies that made it crackle and hunger, unlike His Lordship Lightning Eyes up there, so it must be something else. Curiosity?  
“[I just did.]” Genji called back, as the White Tiger dropped into a defensive crouch.

“[Excellent. I would have it no other way.]” Matsumoto clapped in glee, but Genji didn’t dare take his eye off his opponent for too long. “[Ōkami, you know what to do.]”  
“[Oh, you’re going down old man!]” Ōkami pointed at Hanzo who pointedly ignored him.  
“[When I have dealt with your mutt, Matsumoto, I am coming for you. You will not leave America alive.]” His glowing eyes narrowed, and even Genji felt a little chill at the Murder Tone, as he liked to call it. He had been on the receiving end of that tone, and knew the consequences.

“[You think I would leave Japan and walk right into your hands?]” Matsumoto smirked, and passed her hand through the platform railing. A hologram. That actually made a lot more sense, unless you were Hanzo. Hanzo probably would have come all the way to America just for the drama of it.  
“[My faithful informant – you know who you are – there is a helicopter at the back. You have received the passcode by text.]” Mastumoto turned to the normal tier Yakuza, who had been watching the back and forth between these highly powerful people like a tennis match. “[And the rest of you? Find the Shimada heir. Tonight the last of the dragons will be slain.]”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost called Ōkami Okami, which means landlady 8I Also if anyone knows how to change font size in AO3 formatting, please let me know! Ive seen in done it fics where they have texting but I have NO idea how it's done D: Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! :D Hearing from so many of you recently has been really wonderful!! (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*) .｡.:*♡
> 
> Check out me [ tumblr ](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/HadesBlingKing)  
> More [Overwatch](https://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20overwatch) and [Mchanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=8940589&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Hades_the_Blingking) by me!


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